An Enemy Returns
by Janie Canuck
Summary: Vogler's back, blaming House for ruining his life and looking for payback. Rated T for some violence and language. Please review.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: A Really Bad Day

House limped through the foyer and paused in front of the clinic doors; he checked his watch...Not too bad, he was only 15 minutes late...he figured Cuddy couldn't get too pissed over 15 minutes. It was a lousy day, with snow and freezing rain. You could expect people to be late on a day like this. He reached into his pocket and withdrew the ever-present bottle of Vicodin; the damaged nerves and muscles in his right leg were really starting to whine again. The cold and wet outside didn't help them in the least. He popped a couple of the capsules into his mouth and sucked on them for a moment, then leaning on his cane a little more than usual, he pulled open the glass doors and entered the reception area of the clinic, trying and failing to not appear too lame.

There was a young woman behind the desk, a pretty new face that House did not recognize. Must be a new employee. As he approached her, House saw her look up at him then watched her green eyes quickly fall to the cane, coming to a stop to stare at his unwieldy gait as he hobbled in. The look in her eyes changed immediately from one of professional indifference to one of pity; she wore the expression of a woman who had just seen a three-legged kitten in the animal shelter. He swore under his breath and hoped she wouldn't ask the inevitable questions.

"Dr. House checking in", he said in a barely audible voice. Not looking at her as he grabbed the chart on top of the waiting pile, he tried to limp quickly past. She reached out and grabbed the chart before it cleared the desk and House's forward progress was suddenly halted by the unexpected tug of war. He stumbled and almost fell when she tried to pull the chart from his grasp, causing him to twist uncomfortably towards his right side. He let go of the chart, gasping in pain as he tried to regain his balance. "What the hell is wrong with you?" House snarled at the woman.

She looked aghast and ran around the desk, grabbing his elbow and tried to hold him up. "I'm so sorry sir", she blurted "I'm not supposed to let patients see the files...I, I, I didn't mean to hurt you when I pulled the chart out of your hand."

"I'm not a patient", House growled, struggling with her; "_Let go of me_ _now..._ I don't need your help..." backing up he tried to pull away from her grip, not noticing the puddle of icy water and slush into which he placed the rubber end of his cane. He leaned hard on the cane as he continued his attempts to fend off the guilt-ridden receptionist when, finding no purchase in the slush, the end of the cane shot sideways and out from under him. With the all of his weight thrust suddenly on his bad leg, House felt a searing pain shoot from his knee to his hip and he could not help but cry out as his leg collapsed and he fell heavily to the ground, his cane careening across the floor.

"Goddamn it!" he hissed through clenched teeth. He instinctively curled around his throbbing leg, both hands gripping his thigh. "Goddamn it" he repeated again, his eyes jammed shut as he willed the waves of pain to subside. His stomach lurched and he bit back the bile that threatened to rise in his mouth. "Don't throw up, don't throw up, don't throw up" he repeated to himself over and over.

It took several seconds for House to regain control over his stomach and for the pain to recede enough to let him breathe again. He opened his eyes and looked up to see his worst fear had come true; the waiting room was absolutely jammed with patients all of whom were staring at him with varying degrees of shock, sympathy and pity on their faces. A couple of do-gooders jumped up and rushed over to where he lay in the slush, a man forcefully telling him to lie still while the other, a woman, was gently attempting to help him sit up. 'Lie Still' won the contest, holding him down and 'Sit Up' started running her hands over House's body as if she could miraculously find and heal any broken bones by touch alone. House felt humiliated and slapped their hands away. "Get your hands off me", he snarled. "I don't need your help...I don't need anyone's help." He struggled to sit up, finally rolling up and leaning his back against the reception desk. Damn, he realized that was sitting in the middle of the puddle; the slush was seeping through his jeans and the pain in his leg was blazing. He looked around for his cane and cursed when he saw it mocking him from across the room, completely out of reach. Freaking Pathetic…

The receptionist went from feeling guilty to feeling like she had just about killed someone; she pushed her way between the do-gooders and forced her shoulder under House's right arm. He allowed her to help him get up and support him as he staggered against the desk, on which he was able to hold himself upright. The do-gooders were hovering nearby, upset that he had spurned their attempts to help him.

"Why don't you have a seat sir", the receptionist beckoned him towards a chair, "I'll get a doctor to look at you as soon as possible...Dr. House should be here any time now."

House shook his head in frustration and roared "_I don't want to take a Goddamn seat! I am not one of your patients…..I am Dr. House!" _ The receptionist looked confused then skeptical. House rolled his eyes at her, "Don't just stand there woman...get me my cane!" The receptionist regarded him for a bit longer then went over to where his cane lay, picked it up and brought over to where he stood swaying, hanging on to the edge of the desk for all he was worth. House felt like he would fall down again if he let go. His leg was screaming and didn't seem to want to obey any commands. His jeans and blazer were all wet, covered with slushy crap and he was acutely aware of the stares of all the people in the waiting room. He felt like every patient in the clinic was staring at him, trying to decide whether he really was a doctor or if he was just a pitiful cripple trying to pretend he was something else.

"House, are you okay?" House turned his head quickly to see Dr. Cameron standing in the clinic doors, a look of worry on her face. He cursed under his breath and hoped she had not seen the whole thing. She moved over to the receptionist and took the cane out of her hands. "You fell pretty hard…and your leg is trembling." Damn, she had seen it. He looked down in spite of himself and saw that his leg, indeed, was visibly shaking.

"I'm fine" he snarled, not looking at her. "Give me my cane."

He let go of the reception desk with his right hand and reached for the cane in Cameron's hands. As he did so, the muscles in his right leg suddenly lurched as a spasm set in and he gasped involuntarily as he staggered and almost fell down again. Cameron jumped towards him, dropping the cane while grabbing his right arm; she grunted as she braced herself, took his weight and stopped him from falling. He unsuccessfully tried to pull away from her grasp, unable to gain any leverage with just his left leg. God, he felt feeble.

"Don't be an ass", Cameron scolded, holding his arm tight while he struggled against her. "Let me help you".

"I don't need any help." He tried again to pull his arm free but she held on even tighter. "I'm fine" he repeated, "Let me go!"

She held on grimly and motioned for the receptionist to take his other arm. House found himself being propelled towards an open exam room. Every eye in the clinic watched as he was half dragged towards the door by the two small women. This couldn't possibly get any worse, he thought.

"_Stop right where you are!"_ a booming male voice called out. House blinked, that was a voice he recognized. Cameron and the receptionist stopped their forward progress, still holding House up between them. House managed to balance himself on his good leg and finally stood upright, looking around to see who had spoken. He saw a very large man get up from one of the seats in the back of the waiting room and walk towards the fallen cane. It was Edward Vogler….apparently this day could get worse after all. House hadn't seen him since Vogler had been unceremoniously ejected by the Hospital's Board of Governors when he was trying to have House fired.

Vogler had been big news around the water cooler lately. Since his disgrace at PPTH, Vogler's business empire had crumbled. His assets had been frozen and the hospital employees had all heard the media reports that he was on the run from the police, warrants having been issued for a slew of insider trading and influence peddling offences.

Vogler picked up House's cane and swaggered towards where House stood with Cameron and the receptionist, twirling the cane in his fingers as he approached. Four large hulking men moved into formation behind him, looking ominous. Vogler's goons. House felt a knot forming unexpectedly in his stomach…was that fear? He swallowed involuntarily. House knew that Vogler blamed him for the start of all his problems.

Vogler glared at the clinic patients. "Everyone out of here…now…leave now while you can." The patients did not have to be told twice; it was obvious that this huge man was dangerous. They scurried for the exits.

"Dr. House", Vogler smiled. "It's so good to see you again." He continued his approach.

"Hey Edward", House watched him twirl the cane, "What-cha up to these days? I hear you had a starring role on America's Most Wanted the other night." House put his right foot on the floor, and tentatively leaned on it to see if it would allow him any mobility. Not good…his bum leg still didn't want to take any weight.

"Yeah, always in the limelight" Vogler's eyes were unreadable. "Ladies", he said to Cameron and the receptionist, "I must ask you to step away from Dr. House." The receptionist looked terrified; she had heard about Vogler. She let go of House's left arm and slowly backed away, her eyes never leaving the cane in Vogler's hands.

Cameron's grip on House's right arm tightened even more, "He's hurt Vogler", she said coldly, although the fear was evident in her voice; "Leave us alone… you can go before I call the police."

"Don't be foolish, Dr. Cameron", Vogler said. "You are in no position to tell me to leave, nor will I let you call the police. Now, move away from Dr. House before I let my colleagues have some fun with you."

House felt the knot in his stomach twist. "Back off Cameron" he hissed at her, "Get away from me. I don't need your help….you don't need to be involved in this".

She hesitated. _"Cameron"_, House snarled more forcefully, "Listen to me…Leave me alone…go… now!" He tried to push her away. She wasn't moving. "_Allison, please."_ There was a pleading in his voice. Cameron blinked at him, looking into his eyes and seeing the fear there. House was afraid for her. She swallowed again and reluctantly released House's arm. He swayed slightly but managed to stay on his feet. She backed slowly away from him, and joined the receptionist behind the desk. House sighed in relief.

"Let them leave, Vogler", House tried to sound cocky. "Whatever this is, it's between you and me."

"Oh, it's definitely between you and me Greg", Vogler almost purred as he stood several feet from House. "You want your cane back?" He held the cane out towards House, his voice was taunting. House eyed the cane warily; he felt completely vulnerable without it.

"Give me the cane Vogler." House tried to stand without swaying. Thank God the muscle spasms in his leg had stopped.

"Say please."

House rolled his eyes. He gritted his teeth. "Please."

"Are you sure you want it?" Vogler was having way too much fun. His voice sounded maniacal.

"Give me my Goddamn cane…_Please_" House couldn't keep the contempt in his voice out of the final word.

"Okay, come and get it" Vogler stood rooted to the spot, holding the cane out in front of him.

House rolled his eyes again and took a faltering step towards Vogler. His leg seared in protest but did not collapse. "That's good Greg" Vogler scoffed, "Not bad for a cripple…try another one." House clenched his teeth and did another hop-step. He was so going to beat Vogler with that cane once he got it. He reached out to take the cane. As he did so, Vogler suddenly flipped his grip, now holding the cane like a baseball bat.

House saw what was coming but could not retreat in time. Vogler swung the cane as hard as he could and connected with House's right thigh.

Excruciating pain exploded in his leg. House screamed as his leg collapsed for a second time that day and he fell once again to the floor. There was so much pain…too much pain. He clamped his eyes shut and rolled around in agony, both hands hugging his leg. Tears streamed down his face as he unsuccessfully fought the waves of nausea that threatened to come. He heard Vogler laughing somewhere in the distance and heard Cameron's muffled scream as he vomited.

"Dr. House!" She ran to him grasping his arms just below the shoulders and trying to hold him still. "Try not to move…let me look at your leg!" House continued to writhe on the floor, his eyes shut, his face wet. He was trying not to cry out but was unable to stop a low wail from escaping as he fought to endure the pain in his leg.

Vogler laughed again and motioned for his thugs to pull Cameron away from House. She was yanked away. "You bastard" she yelled, "He didn't deserve that. You may have started the bleeding in his leg again."

"I sure hope so" Vogler laughed again. "It would be entirely pleasant to watch him suffer for a while. Suffer like he's made me suffer."

House opened his eyes and tried to focus on Vogler who looked like a giant standing above him with the cane in his hands. "Whatever you suffered you brought on yourself", House hissed through clenched teeth. "Arrogant idiots and thieves always fall hard. Which one are you, Vogler?"

Vogler glared down at House with a look of utter loathing. "Still the smartass, hey House" he said. "Apparently you haven't figured out that you're in trouble here." He swung the cane again and House flinched and tried to protect his leg. The next blow landed squarely across his back, just below the shoulder blades. House gasped and felt all the air rush out of his lungs and, for a moment, he thought he might pass out. He finally managed to suck in some more oxygen and his head cleared a little. The pain in his thigh was still coming in waves, but the new discomfort in his back actually diverted some of his attention away from the leg. He was almost thankful at the brief respite.

Cameron had moved back behind the reception desk where she noticed that the receptionist was covertly on the phone; she had dialed 911. Cameron nodded in gratitude as she heard sirens approaching.

Vogler laughed again and motioned to his thugs that they were leaving. He looked down at House, raising the cane once again. House cowered and waited for another blow; it never came. He looked up to see Vogler break the cane over his knee as if it were a dry twig, then he threw the two halves at House's head. He was still laughing as the thugs took up formation around him and they headed for the exit. At the door, Vogler stopped and looked around at House.

"Think of this as just a taste of things to come, Dr. House", he drawled. "This is just beginning….I swear you are going to pay for screwing with me! Keep looking over you shoulder, Greg, I'll be there sooner rather than later!"

And with that, Vogler and his goons were gone. Cameron rushed over to where House lay on the floor, "Someone get a gurney!" she yelled as she tried to roll him over.

House was shaking, his hands still hugging his leg. He moaned and he struggled against her. Cameron looked into his eyes, pleading "Let me help you Dr. House, you're hurt." He didn't seem to be able to focus on what she was saying and he continued to try to push her away. "Stop fighting me; let me take care of you. Please…_Greg_" He blinked as she spoke his name, looked up into her tear-streaked face and saw the compassion in her eyes. House nodded and stopped struggling, closing his eyes. Maybe he needed some help after all.

Hospital security and several police officers poured into the clinic. Once the all-clear was given, Cuddy and Wilson pushed their way in with Foreman and Chase not far behind. They gasped when they saw House trembling on the floor in obvious pain, covered with slush and vomit. Cameron looked up as an orderly rushed in with the gurney. "Help me get him on it", she pleaded. Between his colleagues and the orderly, House was finally lifted off the floor and placed on a gurney. He started to protest, then thought the better of it and just laid his head back and gritted his teeth as the gurney was bumped over the remnants of House's cane.

"It was Vogler", Cameron said grimly as they pushed the gurney towards the ER. "He's back and he has a major hate on for House."

"He said this was just the beginning, he said that he would be back."


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks so much for your wonderful reviews! You folks made my day. This is my very first fic so your kind comments were very encouraging!

House kept his eyes closed as he felt himself being rushed towards the ER. It felt as if some maniac was sending electric shocks through his right leg and he groaned in pain each time a new jolt hit him. His breathing was rapid and quite painful; he tried to suck in great gulps of oxygen but couldn't seem to get enough air. He had visions of Vogler standing above him with a deranged look on his face.

Wilson looked down at his friend grimly; he could see House's chest heaving, his breathing was far too rapid. "Stay with us Greg…Open your eyes and tell me what's going on."

House forced his eyes to open; he saw the ceiling running past above and several blurry faces around him. He tried to focus on the faces; there was Wilson and Cuddy on one side, and Chase leaning over from the other. Was that Foreman behind? Yes, that was definitely Foreman. He heard Cameron's voice clearing the hallway ahead. Damn, his whole freaking team was here to see this. The gurney bumped the side of the ER doors as they pushed it around the corner. His stomach convulsed and he retched…he tried in vain to stop himself as he threw up again, his vomit spattering all over Chase's sleeve…."Sorry" he hissed. "Bad sushi…" He jammed his eyes shut again as another spasm coursed through his leg.

Chase smirked, relieved to hear House try to make a joke. "Don't worry about it House" he tried to sound sarcastic. "I'll be sure to send the dry-cleaning bill to you."

House's couldn't find the breath to answer. He felt his clothes being rapidly cut off and weakly tried to sit up, to stop them. He could undress himself…he wasn't that far gone.

"_Greg…Stop being an idiot…Smarten up!"_ Wilson pushed him back down and he felt what was left of his jeans being pulled off his legs. He winced in pain and embarrassment, wishing again that Cameron, Chase and Foreman weren't here to see this….especially Cameron.

Someone put an oxygen mask over his face and he felt a stethoscope being pressed against his chest. "Reduced breath sounds on the left" It was Foreman's voice. "Probably a pneumothorax…let's get a chest x-ray." House closed his eyes and tried to ignore the activity around him. His breathing was becoming increasingly labored and he was having a hard time staying awake. He felt a hand on his left arm and winced as an IV was inserted but didn't bother to open his eyes. He heard Cuddy saying something about a chest tube when he passed out.

House woke up slowly, an incessant beeping sound pulling him out of sleep. The ever-present pain in his leg was mercifully minor and his chest and back throbbed only slightly. House recognized the delicious sensation of pain-numbing meds coursing through his system; at least his colleagues were thoughtful. He opened his eyes, blinking at the sudden influx of light, and saw Wilson sitting beside the hospital bed, watching him intently. Wilson grinned when he saw House's eyes focus on him.

"Hey." House rasped.

"Hey" Wilson answered, unable to keep the relief out of his voice. "I see you found a new way to avoid clinic duty."

"Yeah, well…gotta keep Cuddy on her toes, I guess."

House tried to sit up and Wilson jumped up to gently restrain him. "Take it easy, you took quite a pummeling. You remember what happened?"

"I remember all of it…He didn't pound on my head, you know," House growled. "Vogler showed up and wanted to borrow my cane." He let Wilson ease him into a sitting position and closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness passed. "Did I really upchuck all over Chase?"

Wilson smiled, "Oh yeah, all over yourself too. Don't worry; Cameron cleaned you up after we got the chest tube in."

House winced at that. Shit, why did it have to be her? "Chest tube?"

"From what Cameron described, and the bruises corroborate her story, Vogler took a real nasty swing at your back. You have a fractured rib and the blunt trauma caused a partially collapsed lung. We had to get the air out of your chest cavity."

House lifted the thin hospital gown and saw a bandage halfway down his ribcage on the left side. "Don't worry" Wilson continued. "The tube's been removed. The lung's not leaking air anymore; you're gonna be pretty sore for a couple of weeks though."

"What about my leg?" House tried to keep the concern out of his voice.

Wilson nodded towards House's leg. "We were worried that the impact might have started a bleed in your thigh or may have broken your leg." House lifted the blanket to look at his legs and was relieved to see no cast. "No fracture, no bleeding, no clots," Wilson tried to sound unconcerned. "You do have a hell of a lot of bruising in your remaining muscle tissue though, lots of inflammation." He hesitated ever so slightly. "You might have a bit of a problem using the leg for a while."

House snorted. "More of a problem, you mean…" He looked around the room. "I want to get out of here James…help me get up."

Wilson started to protest as Cuddy and Cameron entered the room. "You will not be leaving tonight House", Cuddy said in a no-nonsense tone. "We need to keep you under observation to make sure your breathing remains normal and that your leg doesn't get worse." Cameron nodded her agreement, trying not to meet House's gaze.

House rolled his eyes at them. "Wilson just said the lung's fine and my leg is just bruised." Cuddy shot Wilson a glare and he looked back apologetically. "I want to go home now", House continued. "I _will not_ spend the night in this hospital with all of you hovering around, fussing over me."

Cuddy smiled at him with a mischievous glint in her eye. He didn't like that look. She glanced around House's hospital room and said, "Fine, get yourself up and dressed and go on home if that's really what you want." That was too easy. She motioned for Wilson and Cameron to follow her into the hallway, turning back towards a suspicious House at the door. "Oh but you should know, you have no clothes with the exception of that oh-so-attractive, too-short, see-through hospital gown that you're wearing and there isn't a cane nor a pair of crutches to be found anywhere on this floor." Cuddy smiled sweetly at the stunned look on his face and swept out of the room. Cameron followed, trying not to laugh and Wilson escaped without even glancing in his direction.

Damn. He lifted the blanket to look at the gown in question. Double damn. He was sure that Cuddy had made absolutely sure while he was unconscious to give him a gown that wouldn't cover _anything_. Then he had a thought that made the blood rise in his face…what if Cameron had been the one? Shit, Damn, Shit…

As Cuddy, Wilson and Cameron exited the room, House was too preoccupied with his predicament to notice the armed police officer standing post outside his door. Cuddy stopped and inquired as to the status of the investigation. The policeman advised Cuddy that Vogler and his men were still at large and that an officer would be in position all night in case he tried to take another run at Dr. House. Cameron shivered involuntarily and Wilson looked grim. Cuddy sighed and thanked the policeman.

"If the police think Vogler is this dangerous, what are we going to do with House tomorrow?" she asked quietly. No one had an answer.


	3. Chapter 3

House looked around his hospital room. It was a matter of pride now…he was not going to let Cuddy hold him prisoner.

He looked up, squinting at the hanging bags of IV fluids and noted that one contained Demerol. That would explain his relative lack of pain…Might be enough to let him move around. He used his arms to pull his upper body to a sitting position, wincing at the soreness in his ribs, and then pushed the blankets off his body. He tentatively moved his good leg towards the left side of the bed; okay, no problem. Then, trying not to look at the swollen, ugly bruising on his thigh, he grabbed his right leg gently with both hands and lifted it, moving it towards the left a few inches. A wave of pain surged through the leg and he gasped, willing himself not to make any noise. He repeated the motion twice more, first shifting the left leg towards the edge of the bed, then bringing his complaining right leg to join it, pausing in between to allow the pain to subside. Finally, House was able to swing his left leg over the side of the bed. He hesitated a moment, then gritting his teeth, picked up his right leg and eased it too, off the mattress, twisting his seat around as he did so. He hissed loudly as an excruciating stab of pain coursed through the leg, protesting the new position. A wave of dizziness struck him and he leaned forward, his head in his hands, trying not to slide off the bed. His ribs hurt like hell and he was short of breath. Damn it…this was going to be harder than he thought.

House didn't know how long he sat like that, leaning forward, gasping for air, trying not to throw up. Eventually, his head cleared and the pain receded somewhat. He raised his eyes and looked around the room again…Door still shut, all quiet…He put his feet gently on the floor, then shifting his weight to his left leg, he tentatively tried to push himself upright. He teetered severely, holding himself up on the side of the bed; he waited until the dizziness passed and he was finally able to balance in a standing position on his good leg.

Turning towards the IV post, he grabbed it with his right hand and was pleased to see it had wheels. This he could use as his cane. He wrapped the bed sheet towel-like around his hips and, holding it in place with his left hand, hesitantly dragged his right foot even with his left. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, making no sound as the anticipated surge of pain seared through his leg. Not too bad…couldn't take a step with that leg, but he could drag it along. Maybe he could really do this. If he was able to just get to his office, there was a change of clothes there and a spare cane. House smiled savagely, thinking of the look on Cuddy's face when she realized he had escaped.

Supporting himself on the IV post, House took several faltering steps towards the exit, first moving his left foot forward, and then dragging his right to join it. Once he finally reached the door, he leaned his left shoulder against the wall, temporarily letting go of his improvised cane and reached out with his right hand to open it…success ... Grabbing hold once more of the IV post, House leaned on it and shuffled into the hallway.

"Good evening Dr. House" said a male voice from directly behind. House lurched to a stop, fear once again twisting in his stomach. He spun around, almost falling as he did so, to see a uniformed policeman looking at him.

"Holy shit" House rasped. "You scared the heck out of me." For a brief moment, he had thought Vogler was behind him.

The policeman regarded him with a slightly bemused expression on his face. "Yes sir, sorry about that…didn't mean to startle you…….I…Um…Do you really think you should be out here walking around….like that?"

House looked down to see that he had dropped his sheet. Damn. The gown barely covered what he needed it to cover. He unsuccessfully tried to bend down to pick up the sheet, hanging on to the IV post for dear life, gasping at the pain in his ribs and his loudly protesting right leg. The sympathetic policeman reached past him, lifting it off the ground and helped House to wrap it around his waist again. "Thank you", House said, trying not to show how embarrassed he felt.

The officer smiled politely and said, "I don't think you should be going anywhere Dr. House….excuse me for saying so but you look like crap. Why don't you let me help you back inside your room? I was told to make sure that you stayed put."

House glared at the policeman, suddenly suspicious that Cuddy had recruited a prison guard. "And why are you so concerned with my welfare, Officer…" House peered at the name tag. "…Officer Thompson?" He moved to hobble down the hallway towards the elevator; the policeman watched his slow progress.

"That's Sgt. Thompson" the officer answered, "and I've been assigned to keep an eye on you tonight, just in case your assailant returns." He turned to follow House, watching his laborious gait. House paused gasping, frustrated that he had only managed to shuffle a few feet beyond the door of his hospital room.

"I don't need a babysitter," House grumbled, annoyed that he was once again short of breath. "I'm a big boy now…why don't you go arrest a jay-walker or something?"

Sgt. Thompson scowled and took a couple of steps around House, now effectively blocking his path to the elevator. House looked up at the imposing officer standing between him and freedom. The young man stood a good six foot four and he must have outweighed House by forty pounds.

"Well Doc", Sgt. Thompson growled menacingly, "I can't say I'm thrilled to have to play nursemaid to you either. Why don't you just turn right around and go back to bed like a good boy? I'd really hate to have to put you over my shoulder and carry you there."

House blinked at him suspiciously, trying to decide if he was serious. "You wouldn't…"

Thompson smiled savagely. "Oh yes, I would…."

While House considered this new development, he heard the tell-tale click-clack of heels on the hallway floor. Shit.

Cuddy appeared from around the corner with Wilson in tow. She had overheard the final exchange between House and the policeman. She scowled upon seeing House standing in the corridor, swaying as he held on to the IV post with his right hand, his left clutching the bed sheet. Wilson grinned widely at the spectacle before him, secretly relieved that his friend had felt well enough to make the attempt.

"House, you are such a stubborn ass sometimes", Cuddy chided in exasperation.

"Just sometimes?" House deadpanned. "I must be slipping…I thought I was an ass all of the time." Thompson nodded his agreement, an amused smile once again on his face. House glowered at him.

Cuddy looked at Wilson. "Wilson, help the delinquent here get back in bed."

Wilson hesitated, smiling. "I'd kinda like to see our friendly neighborhood policeman carry him there…I haven't seen anything this entertaining in ages!" House and Cuddy both glared at him. "Okay, okay…" he whined, pulling House's right hand off the IV post and draping the arm over his own shoulder; "You guys never let me have any fun".

House didn't bother to struggle; he knew that he couldn't ward off Wilson in his present state. Hell, even Cuddy could overpower him and there was no way in hell he was going to give her that opportunity. He leaned on Wilson's shoulder for support as they shuffled back inside the room, his left hand still gripping the bed sheet that was covering what was left of his pride. He needed to get some sleep anyway…

X

X

X

X

Vogler towered above him, a crazed look in his eyes, he raised the cane above his head….House woke up from the nightmare yelling, his arms in front of his face, trying to fend off his attacker.

"It's okay…it's okay", a soothing voice spoke. He felt a hand suddenly on his face and another on his shoulder. "Dr. House…it's okay, you're having a bad dream."

He opened his eyes to see Cameron leaning over the bed. She tentatively stroked his face with her left hand; "Come one, wake up…It's okay…you're safe….he's not here…"

He stopped struggling and looked at her. She was gazing into his eyes, an unreadable expression on her face. Her touch was warm on his cheek. For a long moment, neither moved, then he cleared his throat awkwardly, "Um…yeah…well…thanks." He reached up and gently pulled her hand from his face, his eyes never leaving hers. She looked away, and then stood up quickly, turning her back to him. For once in his life, House didn't know what to say. Cameron remained motionless for several seconds then strode briskly to the window and opened the blinds.

Daylight…House jammed his eyes shut at the sudden blinding influx of light. "Ow...Hey…do you mind not doing that?" He blinked, squinting through the glare. "Are you trying to aggravate me or do you just enjoy tormenting people?"

Cameron was standing silhouetted in the window, her face now expressionless. "It's morning…time to do rounds." She took her stethoscope out of her pocket and hung it around her neck. "You're the first patient on my list."

House gawked at her. "I don't remember agreeing to you being my doctor." He leered at her, "Or do you mean to say you want to _play doctor_ with me?" He was stalling. "Now that's a different thing altogether. You really should be wearing a shorter skirt for that and I can't quite see enough cleavage to make it interesting."

She smiled, relieved at his attempt to goad her. This she could deal with. She walked over to the bed. "Sit up" she ordered. He didn't move. "Sit up or I'll call Dr. Cuddy to come help me with your examination."

He contemplated the no-nonsense look on her face and swallowed involuntarily. God someone was going to pay for this. "Wilson can check me out when he gets here", he said, hoping for once to see Wilson rush through the door wearing that worried look he always seemed to get on his face.

"He's not here…I am." Cameron's tone made it clear she wasn't going to give him any leeway. "Now sit up."

He grumbled a bit but pulled himself into a sitting position. The pain in his ribs made him grunt and his leg seared as he moved. Cameron put a hand on his shoulder, pulling him forward as she reached out and untied the strings holding the rear of his gown together. He pulled the blanket up tight around his waist and she smirked behind him. She pressed the stethoscope to his back and said, "Take a deep breath, please Dr. House."

The examination was thorough and, for House, acutely embarrassing. Cameron remained clinical and professional throughout, ignoring his sarcastic comments, listening first to his lungs, gently probing the contusions on his back, examining the sutured incision left over from the chest tube.

Finally Cameron carefully lifted the blanket from the foot of the bed to look at the horrendous bruising on his right leg. Even with the swelling, she couldn't help but notice the scarring on his thigh and the deep indentation where muscle should have been. He was silent and could not meet her gaze. Even though he deserved it, she inwardly chided herself for embarrassing him. She could have waited to let Wilson do this. She picked up his chart and started to scribble notes.

"Not too bad at all, Dr. House", she said breezily. "Your wound is healing well and your breathing is much better. No hematoma forming on the leg either…that's good news."

"Thank you, _Doctor_", he said icily, through clenched teeth, smoothing the blanket back over his legs. He finally looked up at her. "Then, I want to get out of here, _now_."

Cameron returned his gaze but did not respond. The silence was broken when the door swung open and a woman wearing a hair net entered, carrying a tray.

"Your breakfast, Dr. House", she said, placing the tray on his bed table. "Hi Dr. Cameron …"

Cameron nodded and mumbled a "good morning". She was relieved to see Chase and Foreman enter the room as the breakfast lady left.

House rolled his eyes, "Why is my entire staff here? My case is boring…I got beat up, see. Not too difficult to diagnose…even for you three. Why don't you all go away and save some sick people or something?"

Foreman didn't take the bait. He lifted the lid to House's tray and sniffed the contents. Picking up a piece of toast, he said "Cuddy just paged us to meet her here. I think she and Wilson are both heading this way." He munched down the toast.

"Oh that's just fabulous", House scoffed as, sure enough, Cuddy and Wilson arrived. "Is it just me, or do I get the impression you guys are ganging up on me?"

"Stop whining, House", Cuddy looked exhausted. "I wanted everyone here so we can discuss what we're going to do with you." Wilson winced, wishing she hadn't put it quite that way.

House's eyebrows shot up, almost disappearing into his hairline. "What are you going _to do with me_?" He started to get angry. "Last time I checked, I get to decide what I'm going_ to do _with myself…you people…" he glared around the room... "have_ nothing to say about it._"

Cuddy scowled. "Look House, the police haven't found Vogler yet. And he did threaten you. I…that is to say, we, .…" she indicated everyone in the room… "are worried that you aren't safe at your place. We think you should stay with one of us."

House could not believe his ears. "I want to go home", he said. Were they really that worried about him? "To_ my_ home. I'm a big boy..." Why did he have to keep saying that? ... "I can take care of myself."

Wilson spoke up, "Look Greg, Lisa's right…it should only be a few days until you're back on your feet." House grimaced. "Relatively speaking, I mean", Wilson stammered. "You can stay with me, we've got a spare room…"

"And your wife adores me", House's sarcasm was evident. "No way, James." He looked around the room. "Don't any of you bother trying, I'll say no to each and every one of you." He set his jaw…there was no way they were going to cajole him into this.

A young policewoman stuck her nose into the room. Sgt. Thompson must be off duty. "Dr. Cuddy, can I speak with you a moment?" she asked.

House raised his voice. "If this has anything to do with me, you better say it _to me._" He was really starting to get pissed off.

The police officer nodded and entered the room. "I didn't mean to offend you sir. I have just been advised that the suspect was reported to have been seen boarding an airplane at JFK. We're pretty confident that he has left the area. A country-wide APB has been issued for him." There was a collective sigh of relief around the room. "My watch commander is pulling us off this detail. Don't hesitate to call the station though, if you have reason to believe that Mr. Vogler is back in town. We'll keep looking for him, sir."

House nodded. "Thank you officer", he said as she left. He glared at his assembled colleagues. "Anyone have any problems with me going home now?"

No one said a word.

"Good, then someone pull out this IV, get me some clothes and let me get the hell out of here!"

Wilson nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. "Greg, I can head over to your place to get you some supplies. I should be back in an hour or so…"

House tried to interrupt. Wilson held up his hand and continued, "I know, I know…you usually keep a change of clothes and a spare cane in your office….I...ah…I removed them last night, before your escape attempt, incidentally." House looked indignant. "I figured you'd try to take off, so…er…anyway, I left the bag in my other car….sorry" he smiled sheepishly.

House didn't have much choice other than to stay put and wait for Wilson's return. Chase pulled out his IV and Cameron picked him up a new bottle of Vicodin from the pharmacy. No one seemed to know had happened to his last one. He ate what was left of his breakfast, popped a couple of the capsules, and dozed off as they took effect.

X

X

X

House wasn't sure how much time had passed when he woke up. Feeling a bit foggy, he looked around the room, trying to identify what had roused him. There was a man standing in the room, his back to House, looking out the window. A big man.

"Sgt. Thompson, what are you doing back here?" House asked.

"Sorry Greg", Vogler said as he turned around, grinning savagely. "No one here but me."


	4. Chapter 4

I must once again thank all of you wonderful people who have reviewed this story! I truly appreciate your compliments; your enthusiasm about my fic has been overwhelming! Thank you, thank you, thank you….

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House turned ashen as Vogler approached the bed, a nasty, wolfish smile across his face. He struggled to pull his upper body into a sitting position, looking desperately for the nurse's call button that had been pinned to the side of his bed. Goddamn it…it wasn't there…he fumbled in the sheets…it had been right here…

Vogler's smile widened and he held up the severed call button and swung it slowly back and forth. "Is this what you're looking for Dr. House? Sorry, I removed it while you were sleeping….I wanted to make sure we weren't interrupted this time."

House swallowed involuntarily. "That was….ah…really thoughtful of you, Vogler…I was _so_ disappointed that we had to cut it short yesterday." He did his best to sound sarcastic, cursing to himself as he heard the alarm evident in his own voice. He felt the now-familiar clutch of fear churn in his stomach…Holy shit…Vogler had been standing right beside him, watching while he slept…completely vulnerable. He felt sick.

House's eyes darted around the room, coming to rest on the telephone sitting on the bedside table. He leaned over quickly, ignoring the pain in his side, and made a grab for the receiver. The line was dead. Vogler laughed, his eyes gleaming. "Come on now, Dr. House…if I was busy removing any possible avenues of distraction, don't you think I would have taken care of the phone, too?"

House put the phone down and couldn't help but look desperately towards the door, hoping someone...anyone... would come in. Vogler followed House's gaze and smiled. "Incidentally, I also made sure the nurses on this ward are all really busy in one of the rooms way down at the other end of the corridor. Some kind of emergency…" House closed his eyes briefly, trying to control the rising panic. He quickly opened them again to see Vogler continue his swaggering approach.

"Look Greg", Vogler spoke as if he were addressing a child. "I brought you a present."

House noticed for the first time that Vogler held a sleek, wooden cane in his right hand. Shit. He couldn't let this happen again. He had to try something…he couldn't just lay here and get beat up again.

Vogler advanced towards the bed, raising the cane as if to strike. Gritting his teeth, House heaved his body sideways, throwing his legs over the side of the bed opposite Vogler…Maybe, if he could keep the bed between them…Ignoring the surge of pain, he let his feet hit the floor and tried to stand. He heard Vogler laugh as he staggered for a moment, his head reeling, then fell heavily to the floor as his leg collapsed. He cried out as the pain exploded in his thigh, his chest heaved and once again he found himself gasping for air. Damn. He writhed on the ground, trying to roll under the bed…Vogler hadn't even touched him and he was cowering on the floor! Goddamn, freaking pathetic….

Vogler grinned in appreciation, his face beaming, and he laughed. "Tsk, tsk, Greg…now why did you go and fall out of bed like that?" He strode over to where House lay, tucked the cane under his arm and knelt down. House groaned in pain as Vogler, seemingly without effort, picked him up roughly and threw him back onto the bed. House gaped at him confusedly as Vogler replaced the blankets over his legs and started to tuck him in…

"There, there…isn't that better?" Vogler asked. House flinched as Vogler pulled the blankets up way too tight across his searing right leg and jammed the ends under the mattress, effectively pinning him to the bed. Vogler stood back as House eyed him apprehensively, breathing rapidly in shallow gasps. "Now about your present…"

Vogler pulled the cane out from under his arm and grasped it in both his hands, holding it towards House. "Isn't it a beauty?" Vogler admired the cane. "It's handmade from black walnut with sterling silver inlay on the handle." He waved it back and forth like a sword, inches from House's face, enjoying the obvious fear in House's eyes as they followed its movements.

House willed himself not to flinch as Vogler continued to flourish the cane around his head. Vogler laughed again, "What's wrong Doc…nothing to say?" Suddenly, he raised the cane high into the air then brought it crashing downwards with all his strength. House raised his hands to fend off the blow he was sure was coming.

The cane landed with a muffled thump beside him on the bed, the enormous power behind Vogler's swing evident from the shockwave traveling through the mattress. House opened his eyes, his hands still in front of his face. He could feel his heartbeat…way, way too fast…hammering against his ribs. Goddamn it. He had never felt so powerless, so defenseless, in his life. Part of his brain realized that this was no doubt Vogler's goal…to terrorize him…but he couldn't seem to think of anything to do to stop it...not even anything clever to say. Freaking useless…

Vogler grinned again, "What's up Greg, don't trust me?" He poked House hard in the ribs with the tip of the cane. House hissed and tried to grab the wooden shaft out of Vogler's hands. "Oh, now, why did you have to go do that?" Vogler smiled wolfishly.

Pulling House's upper body forward on the bed, Vogler effortlessly yanked the cane out of House's hands and backhanded him hard across the face with it. The force of the blow was stunning and House was knocked sideways; his weight pulled the blankets free of the mattress and he was thrown completely off the bed. He hit the floor with his right knee and screamed as the damaged leg folded underneath his weight. He rolled on the ground in agony, his eyes jammed shut, trying to focus on the sounds of Vogler's steps as he approached from the other side of the bed.

Vogler looked down at him, shaking his head. "Now that one was your fault, Greg. You shouldn't try to take a present until it's been formally given to you." He regarded the cane once more. "I did wreck your other cane so I thought I could make amends by bringing you a new one." He tapped House's right leg with the silver-inlaid handle; House groaned and curled his body around the leg. "Come on, Greg, Say thank you to me for bringing you a gift…"

"Go to hell…" House spoke so quietly, Vogler almost didn't hear.

"What was that, Dr. House?" Vogler leaned forward and prodded him hard in the back with his foot. House cringed. "Did I hear you say something?

House didn't care anymore. Everything hurt. He couldn't do anything else…

"I said, _**Go to hell**!" _

Vogler grinned savagely. "That's my boy!" He kicked House hard in the ribs. House gasped loudly and tried to roll away. "I was wondering whether you had any guts." Vogler raised the cane once more…

His swing was interrupted when the hospital room door opened and a burly man leaned in. One of the goons. "Mr. Vogler", he said quickly, "Sorry to disrupt your visit Sir, but someone's coming."

"Go get the car." Vogler ordered and the goon took off running. Vogler sighed, looking once again at House. He bent down and grabbed the front of House's gown, twisting it tight around his neck and lifting House's face towards his. "Look at me, Greg." House's eyes opened and he tried to focus on Vogler's face. "You know I really enjoy our time together. We'll have to do this again soon.""

The door suddenly swung wide and Wilson walked in, looking down at the contents in the bag he carried. "Hey Greg…Lisa should be here with your discharge papers any second…I found your Nike's and some jeans and…" He stopped mid-sentence, his mouth open in shock at the sight of Vogler standing beside the bed, holding his friend up by the throat. House had blood on his face and his legs appeared to be crumpled beneath him.

"Don't move Dr. Wilson!" Vogler shouted. "Unless you want me to break his neck…"

Wilson stopped dead in his tracks…."Vogler", he sputtered, "You Bastard…leave him alone! For god sakes, leave him be!"

Vogler laughed maniacally and threw House to the floor. "Just can't seem to avoid these interruptions, can we Greg?" Vogler stood up, holding the cane in one hand, he drew a pistol from a shoulder holster under his coat, effectively halting Wilson's furious approach. He kicked House hard in the side again for good measure. House hissed and held his ribs. "Dr. House, listen to what I am saying…I can get to you, no matter where you are...Remember that...Anytime, anywhere I choose."

Cuddy, entered the room, and stopped abruptly, stunned at the sight before her. "Oh my god…House!" she exclaimed.

"Well good afternoon Dr. Cuddy", Vogler smiled, pointing the handgun in her direction, "How nice to see you again. Dr. House and I were just finishing up." He placed the sleek black cane on the empty hospital bed and turned back towards House. "I'll leave your get-well present right here, Greg. I guess visiting hours are over…See you around…"

He motioned for Wilson and Cuddy to move away from the door, and then strode calmly from the room. Cuddy looked at Wilson, their eyes locked. "Help him", she pleaded, "I'll get someone...a gurney." She disappeared into the hallway.

Wilson rushed over to where House lay, crumpled and moaning on the floor. "Oh shit, Greg…What did he do?….." He saw the deep laceration on House's left cheek, blood from the wound running down his friend's face.

House looked up at Wilson, pain clouding his face. "James…" he rasped weakly, "I couldn't do anything…I tried...I wasn't able to…"

"It's okay now Greg, it's okay…the bastard's gone. " He felt House shaking against him; he could tell his friend was fighting for control. Wilson held him tentatively by the shoulders as House finally stopped struggling and a long, choking sob filled the room.


	5. Chapter 5

Here's Chapter 5, perhaps I should've called it "House is back". Anyway…I think he has suffered enough…for now!

Thanks again for the reviews!

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He listened to the gasping sobs that filled the room. It took a moment for House to realize that the sounds were coming from him. What the Hell. Wilson was here…thank god it was him… trying to tell him that everything was fine. Everything wasn't fine…he was pathetic, acting like some helpless cripple. Sickening. House shook his head and gritted his teeth. There was no way he was going to let Vogler turn him a sniveling, cringing whipping boy. He started to get angry. It felt good to let the hostility flow freely, replacing the paralyzing fear, the despair into which he had miserably allowed himself to plunge, if only briefly.

He looked up at Wilson, his breathing was still coming in shuddering gasps but he was once again in control of himself. "Okay James…I'm okay now. Help me stand up."

Wilson hesitated. "You could be hurt, Greg…" he began to protest but fell quickly silent under the unexpectedly hostile glare from House.

"Shut the hell up!" House roared. "I am fine and there is no fucking way I'm going to let anyone else see me like this! My pride has taken enough of a thrashing as it is…_now help me stand up or get the hell out of my way!_" He shoved Wilson's hands aside and, ignoring the stabs of pain, struggled to sit up.

Wilson gaped at him, wide-eyed for the briefest of moments, then grinned widely, delighted that House was cursing at him. He was back …thank God…Wilson jumped to his feet, bent down and forcefully grabbed House's right arm, draping it over his shoulder. "Well, it's about time you decided to get up off your lazy butt", he scoffed. "Now reach up with your other hand and grab the bed frame. There's no freaking way I'm going to lift your lard ass off the floor all by myself!"

House scowled at him but Wilson saw the gratitude in his eyes. It took quite a few seconds for Wilson to finally drag House to his feet, the two friends trading insults and curses throughout the painful process.

Cuddy entered the room with an orderly and a gurney in time to hear Wilson calling House a useless gimp. She stopped, stunned to see them laughing as Wilson steadied his swaying friend.

House looked over at Cuddy, smiling wolfishly through clenched teeth. "What are you staring at Cuddy", he asked. "Trying to sneak a peak under my gown again?" He hissed slightly at the burn in his leg as he placed his right foot on the floor. "I don't need your damn gurney…I need to get dressed and get out of here."

Cuddy stood, mouth agape for a moment, regarding the unexpected turn of events in the hospital room. Closing her mouth quickly, she turned to the orderly and said quietly, "You can go…the police should be here shortly…make sure you escort them to my office once they arrive." The young man nodded curtly and turned to wheel the gurney out of the room. "Leave that here," Cuddy added, "He is going to use it, whether he likes it or not." House heard the conviction in her voice.

House looked at Cuddy as the orderly left the room, leaving the gurney in place. "You heard me Cuddy", he said. "I'm leaving." Staggering slightly, he turned to grab the cane Vogler had placed on the bed.

"House, you can barely stand up and your breathing is erratic…" Cuddy walked over and took his chin in her hand, eyeing the laceration on his cheek. "…and this is going to need sutures. Now, you _are_ going to have a chest x-ray and a full work-up in the ER, and you _are_ going to let someone stitch that up. After that…we'll just see about you leaving." Her tone made it obvious why she was the dean of medicine at a major hospital. She clearly wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"You know she's right, Greg", Wilson added. "Don't be a jerk and make us sedate you." Cuddy nodded her agreement.

House looked from Wilson to Cuddy and recognized the grim determination on their faces. He knew they would do it. Damn. He also knew that they were right. Maybe he could still salvage something. "All right, I'll make you a deal", he said. "I get to keep the cane; I get a longer gown that ties in the front and _I get a pair of my freaking boxers_."

Cuddy smiled and her eyes softened. "We can do that", she said. Wilson just grinned.

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House sat on a bed in the ER, feeling much more dignified in his new gown and his black boxers, a white hospital blanket covering his legs. The chest x-ray showed no new rib fractures, although he sported several new bruises where Vogler had kicked him. His breathing, while still painful, had normalized and his leg was mercifully quiet after having taken a dose of Vicodin. House was also comfortably aware of the unseen police officer loitering in the hallway.

He looked at the cane which Vogler had given him. He had to admit, it was a handsome specimen, the sleek polished wood gleamed and the silver on the handle was artfully engraved. Wilson had wanted him to throw it away, worried that it would be a bad memory of the torment inflicted by Vogler. House had disagreed; he would keep the cane as a reminder. He would never again allow himself to feel so helpless. Wilson didn't understand but did not argue the point.

He looked up as the curtain surrounding him was drawn back and Chase and Cameron entered. He noticed that Cameron's eyes were red and swollen; she had evidently been crying. Why did that make him feel so damn unsettled? She had no reason to cry over him…

He knew the reason; the thought that she really did care for him brought an unwelcome blush to his face.

Chase was carrying a suture tray which he placed on the bed table. He looked tense but tried to fake a sarcastic smile. "Okay, Dr. House…um…it's good to see you looking so… good." He regarded the ugly laceration on House's left cheek; the bruise was developing into what would become one heck of a shiner.

House snorted. "What the hell are you two doing here? Last time I checked, neither of you are assigned to the ER."

Cameron spoke up. Despite her appearance, her voice was strong and confident. "I'm going to stitch up your face." House tried to look aghast but didn't do a very convincing job. "Don't argue", Cameron added. "The real ER docs are treating the real sick people; they didn't want anything to do with a faker like you. Wilson thinks you'll slug him if he tries it and I drew the short straw. Chase is here to make sure you don't slug me."

House smiled in spite of himself. Chase picked up a syringe from the tray. "Just hold still while I numb it up." House closed his eyes and let Chase inject the Lidocaine around the damaged skin on his cheek. He couldn't stop himself from making a scathing comment about Chase's lack of skill with a hypodermic. Chase grinned and looked at Cameron. They were both relieved to hear House being his normal annoying self.

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Wilson unlocked the door of House's apartment and hovered nearby as House limped painfully inside, using his new cane for support and dragging his protesting right leg along behind him. He had completely refused Cuddy's attempts to convince him to use a pair of crutches and he had become so rude to the police detective who tried to seize the cane as evidence that the exasperated man had finally given up and let him keep it.

He shuffled into his living room and sank thankfully onto his big, comfy recliner. Wilson puttered around the apartment, trying to disguise the fact that he was securing the locks on the windows and nervously checking for intruders in the surrounding rooms. Finally, he too dropped with an exhausted sigh into his standard spot on the sofa.

House looked at him reproachfully, "Are you satisfied that no one's lurking behind the shower curtain now?"

Wilson returned his baleful look. "Well, you can't be too careful…God knows how many jealous husbands are out there gunning for you." He smirked to himself and closed his eyes, leaning his head back into the cushions. "Dibs on the couch", he said tiredly.

"You did notice the unmarked police car parked right outside didn't you?" House scoffed. "I have enough babysitters for the night. You should go home to your wife. I'm fine."

Wilson opened his eyes, "Look, Greg. It's late. Julie's probably already asleep. I'm staying."

House closed his eyes. He was too tired to argue. "Fine…suit yourself. Just don't expect me to cook breakfast for you."

Wilson grinned, "You…cooking; now that's a leap of imagination."

They were interrupted by a knock at the door. House cursed inwardly as he felt a knot form in his stomach. Vogler's words jumped into his head…_anytime, anywhere_… He shook the fear away. The police were outside…it couldn't be him.

Wilson's look of apprehension indicated that, he too, was having the same thought. He jumped up and peered through the tiny lens on the door. Sighing with relief, he unlocked the door and ushered Foreman, Chase and Cameron into House's apartment.

House groaned loudly. "What in God's name are you three doing here? You had better not be planning to baby sit me for the evening; Wilson has already annoyingly imposed himself on me for that purpose."

"We just thought we'd drop by to see if you needed anything…you know…maybe some tea, cookies, a .357 magnum…" The sarcasm in Foreman's voice was palpable. He dropped onto the couch beside Wilson.

Cameron hung her coat in the hall closet and curled up into the leftover corner of the couch. Chase was left with the piano bench. "Don't worry House", Chase said. "We ordered pizza…should arrive anytime."

"Hey, great idea", Wilson said. "I'm starved and I think there's beer in the fridge." He jumped up to check.

"Will you people just go home!" House shouted. He could not believe this was happening. "I'm fine and I don't need any of you wiping my ass for me. All of you…just go away!"

No one moved and he rolled his eyes in exasperation. Cameron jumped up to answer the expected knock on the door. "Pizza's here!" she said after giving the delivery guy a fat tip for putting up with the police search.

House grabbed his cane and struggled to his feet. He was really getting annoyed. "Listen to me…Take your pizza and get out! I am tired. I just want to go to bed."

"So, go to bed", Wilson said, stuffing a slice into his mouth. "We're staying…Unless you think you could actually throw us out."

House glared at them in disbelief. He really didn't need this…God he was tired!

"Fine, fine…I hope you choke on it!" Grumbling he started shuffling towards the bedroom. Cameron jumped to her feet but he stopped her with a threatening look. "Don't even think about it…no one is going to put me to bed!" She sat quickly and they watched him limp painfully to his room and slam the door.

"I already called dibs on the couch", Wilson smiled, shoving another slice of pizza into his mouth.

House staggered to his bed and collapsed on it. He popped a couple of his pills into his mouth and sucked on them as he carefully pried off his shoes. It took him several painful minutes of grunting to pull his jeans over his legs and by the time he was down to his t-shirt and boxers, he was gasping for breath. He finally managed to roll into bed and pulled the covers up to his neck. He lay there for a long time, listening to his unwelcome houseguests laughing and joking as they ate their pizza and drank his beer. He hated to admit it, but he was pleased that they were there. Feeling safe for the first time in two days, he felt himself drifting into sleep.

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The windows of the unmarked police car parked outside House's building were starting to fog up. The detectives inside were vigilant and made note of the plate number of the black sedan that passed slowly by the apartment for a third time. They called for a squad car to intercept the suspicious vehicle, but by the time the police car arrived, it was no where to be found.


	6. Chapter 6

WOW….I am so pleased that so many of you are enjoying my story. Your reviews are wonderful and so very, very much appreciated! "Thank you" just doesn't seem to cut it.

Unfortunately, Christmas holidays are over and I'm back to work (Real life gets in the way sometimes doesn't it?) so my updates may slow down a bit. I'm having such a great time writing this however that I'm still hoping to be able to have a new chapter up every couple to three days until the story is finished!

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The room was dark when House lurched suddenly awake. Alarmed and disoriented, he sat up quickly, remembering too late his battered ribs. Gasping in pain he clasped his arms around his upper body, unconsciously pulling his knees rapidly towards his chest…wrong move… "Ow…shit…" His leg blazed in violent protest of the sudden motion. Ignoring the searing discomfort, House anxiously scanned the dim room; he felt panicky, expecting to see Vogler, somehow, looming above him.

No one was there; nothing was out of place. He forced himself to resist the overwhelming urge to peer under the bed like a child looking for monsters; he shook his head, angry at the terror that he had once again allowed to twist into his stomach.

His entire body ached and House stretched his sore muscles tentatively, groaning at the renewed surge of pain this produced in his thigh. He rummaged urgently on his bedside table, his practiced fingers expertly finding the Vicodin bottle in the dark. As he swallowed two of the capsules, he heard a sound coming from the other side of the bedroom door…the paralyzing clutch of fear returned and his heart rate skyrocketed. Damn, he had to stop this. Listening intently, holding his breath, he heard a faint noise that seemed familiar somehow, yet he couldn't quite identify what it was. Sidling over to the edge of the mattress, House grabbed the cane and struggled to get up out of bed. He shuffled painfully to the door and paused, apprehensively trying to focus on the sound that had awakened him.

He sagged against the doorframe with relief when he finally recognized the odd noise… someone was snoring loudly in his living room. The events of the previous evening came flooding back and he remembered the gaggle of concerned faces that refused to leave him alone. Annoying idiots…he smirked…there was no way he would ever tell them that their presence had been …comforting.

House looked at the glowing red numbers of the clock on his bedside table; it was almost four in the morning. He should really go back to bed but he was parched. He quietly opened the bedroom door and shuffled into the living room, heading as soundlessly as he could manage towards the kitchen to get some water. It was dark but he could make out a shape snoozing on the sofa; James had called dibs so it was probably him…the series of snorts and snuffles coming from that vicinity definitely had a Wilson-esque tone. He limped across the room, using the cane for support as he dragged his right leg along behind. It hurt like hell but at least the Vicodin was beginning to kick in.

House was almost across the room, wondering for a moment whether anyone other than Wilson had stayed the night and where they might be, when he unexpectedly bumped into something that shouldn't have been there. He staggered, his useless right leg refusing to take any weight. He pitched forward and fell heavily over the offending TV table that had been abandoned in the middle of the floor.

There was a deafening crash as House stumbled over the table, knocking it over and sending several empty beer bottles careening around the hardwood floor. A strangled cry of agony escaped his lips as he landed excruciatingly on his right hip.

"_Goddamn it! _ Shit, shit, shit…Fuck…Ow" Not again. This could not be happening again. He rolled on the ground, hugging his leg. Useless…

Wilson was jolted awake by the cacophony of rolling beer bottles and House's pain-filled curses. He leapt to his feet in absolute panic. Unable to make out anything in the dark, Wilson fumbled for the lamp. He finally found it and flipped the switch. Chase was struggling to get up, his knee wedged in the footrest after having fallen out of the recliner. "What the bloody hell was that?" he asked blearily.

Wilson saw House curled up on the ground, the remnants of the TV table, last night's pizza and several beer bottles littering the floor around him.

"Greg…shit, Greg what the hell happened?" Wilson rushed over. "Was it Vogler? Are you okay?"

"Do I look okay?" House shouted. "Who the fuck left that in the middle of the floor? Is everyone trying to kill me?" House's breathing was ragged and he gasped for air. Goddamn it.

It suddenly dawned on Wilson that Vogler wasn't there…his panic started to dissolve…he looked down at his friend and couldn't stop himself from smirking. "You tripped over a table...? That's it? Holy shit…" he started to giggle insanely, the utter relief making him giddy.

Chase had finally untangled himself from the recliner and was on his feet. He gaped bemusedly at Wilson, completely taken aback by the idiotic laughter.

"Damn you", House glared up at Wilson. "What the hell is so funny?"

Wilson couldn't stop himself. He tittered like a schoolboy. "I don't really know… Holy shit Greg…you scared the hell out of me." Trying to suppress his laughter, he reached down and offered his left hand to House. "Let me help you up."

House regarded the hand suspiciously. "You're completely nuts…" Chase looked inclined to agree.

House let them help him get to his feet and stagger over to the recliner. He sat down gratefully, still gasping for breath. He carefully propped his right foot on the coffee table, wincing in pain as Wilson collected the scattered beer bottles and Chase picked up the overturned TV table. "So what happened to Cameron and Foreman?" House asked. "Oh wait…" He looked around, a suggestive leer forming on his face. "… They're having sex…in the shower…right? …in _my_ shower…Ew." He smirked derisively.

Wilson rolled his eyes. "God, you're so juvenile." House feigned a you-hurt-my-feelings look. Wilson snorted. "Foreman offered to take Cameron home; they left a couple of hours ago."

Chase sat down tiredly on the couch and looked over at House. "What the heck were you doing sneaking around in the middle of the night anyway?" he asked. "You nearly gave me a coronary!"

House glared at Chase. "Last time I checked, this is still my house…technically, if _I_ walk around _my_ house it doesn't qualify as sneaking…" Chase just shook his head and stared at his feet. House glanced towards Wilson, "Actually, it was Wilson who woke me up" House confided conspiratorially. Chase looked up at Wilson in mock surprise, his eyebrows raised.

Wilson turned scarlet… "Hey, I was out cold…asleep… on the couch when you did your bull in the china shop routine…" He was positively stammering.

House grinned, enjoying Wilson's discomfort. "Whatever is wrong James?" he said, an exaggerated look of indignance on his face. "I only meant that it was you snoring like a freaking banshee that woke me up. You really should try one of those sticky things on your nose…"

Now it was Wilson's turn look hurt. "I will have you know that _I _do _not_ snore"… "Now _you_, on the other hand…"

Chase leaned his head back into the cushions of the couch and watched the show, amused by the insults and jibes being traded between Wilson and House. He stretched, looking at his watch. "Well, it'll be morning soon…I'm going home…" He said, interrupting the sparring match. "…I should be able to get another hour or so of sleep before I have to get to work…." He smirked. "…and I really think you two would like to be alone."

Wilson started sputtering again. House waved a tired hand at Chase. "Good, get out", he closed his eyes and laid his head on the back of the chair. "It's about Goddamn time you left…"

Chase just shook his head, smiling. "You're welcome", he said as he shrugged into his coat and headed out into the cold.

House opened his eyes. "You should head home too, James", he said. "I'm fine here…" Wilson started to disagree but House cut him off with a glare. "Look, I get it… you want to baby-sit me but I'm fine…the police said they'd be outside all night. No worries…Go home." Wilson was silent; House could see that he was still reluctant to leave. "Damn it James, you're a bigger mess than me…you've got pizza all over your shirt and you smell like a beer. For God's sake, go home, take a shower and find some clean clothes!"

Wilson finally agreed after he promised to call 911 if anything happened. Still grumbling, he donned his jacket and left the apartment. House wasn't surprised when he heard Wilson lock the deadbolt behind him using his spare key. God, he was so tired… He sat unmoving in his chair for a long time, listening to the sounds of his empty apartment. Funny, it suddenly seemed emptier than usual.

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It was just after six thirty when House woke up from a fitful sleep on the recliner. Still wearing only his boxers and a t-shirt, he felt cold and his leg throbbed terribly. Careful not to move too quickly, he maneuvered the leg to the floor; the muscles had stiffened in their awkward position and he hissed at the spasm the motion produced. Damn. He tried to remember a time when his life wasn't about pain but the memory was fleeting. The bottle of Vicodin was still in his bedroom and the thought of dragging himself that distance was daunting. He sighed deeply, causing a new stab of pain in his ribs. Ow…shit. Pathetic…as always. Taking hold of the cane in his right hand, he leaned on it and pulled his aching body upright. He had managed a couple of dragging steps towards the bedroom when the phone rang. He paused for a moment, considering not answering but he knew it was probably Wilson…or Cuddy…and if he didn't respond they would probably have the police kicking in his door in no time. He picked up the cordless and answered tersely, trying not to sound as short of breath as he felt. "What?"

"Good morning, Greg. I've been waiting for you to wake up so I could call." House blanched…it was Vogler's voice. "It's about time you were up and about…I trust you slept well?" …House swallowed …How the hell did he know?

"What do you want, Vogler?" Damn it, even he could hear the fear in his own voice.

"I just wanted to make sure that you're okay", Vogler smiled into the phone. House could picture him with that awful sneering grin and the thought made him shudder involuntarily. Vogler chuckled, "I hope your guests didn't keep you up too late."

Fear. He cursed inwardly as he felt it once again taking hold of him. House limped painfully to the window. Drawing the blind, he anxiously scanned the sidewalk below. The police car was still there and he breathed a little easier. Vogler laughed in his ear. "I'm closer than you think, Greg…we're not done yet, you know. I'll be seeing you again soon." The line went dead and House stared at the phone in his hand.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 is here…this is so much fun! Thanks as always to my trusty reviewers. I appreciate your comments and I hope you continue to let me know what you think!

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House could hear his heart pounding as he looked at the phone. _I'm closer than you think_…Vogler's words echoed in his mind and he felt himself shudder. The police were right outside; that madman couldn't possibly be in the building, could he? House dropped the phone onto the couch, unable to prevent his mind from visualizing a variety of ways Vogler could have entered undetected. He swallowed hard and realized that his legs were shaking. Damn it all to hell... "I'm just cold", he said aloud. He heard the quavering of his own voice. Shit, now he was talking to himself.

House heard a noise outside his front door and his stomach lurched. The blood rushed from his face and he stood immobilized as he listened to the sound of footsteps approaching his apartment. Holding his breath, he prayed that they would pass on by; he felt the panic rise in his throat as the footfalls stopped and he saw a shadow form in the light coming from underneath the door. All of the sudden, three sharp knocks pounded the wood, the sound jolting him out of his momentary paralysis. The phone…where the hell was the phone?

He tried to take a hurried step towards where he had dropped the telephone but his palm was slick with sweat and the cane slipped out of his hand; he cursed as it fell to the floor and he stumbled awkwardly, making a desperate grab for the side of the couch. His leg seared agonizingly but he managed to stop himself from falling. The cane…he had to get the cane. He felt absolutely helpless without it. Ignoring the sharp pain it produced in his ribs, House gasped loudly as he leaned over, frantically grappling for the fallen cane with his right hand as he maintained a precarious hold on the couch with his left. He finally managed to pick it up and pull himself fully upright when he heard three more raps on the door. His heart was threatening to pound its way out of his chest. "Dr. House …it's the police, sir, can we come in?" He recognized the voice of Sgt. Thompson immediately. His knees gave way and he sagged against the couch in utter relief.

"Hang on a second…" House was having difficulty breathing. "I'll be right there." He paused to let his hammering pulse slow down somewhat, then picked himself up and limped painfully to the door, clutching the cane tightly to avoid losing it again. He peered through the tiny lens, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead gratefully against it when he recognized the large form of Sgt. Thompson standing patiently outside. House unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door.

The policeman stood holding two cups of coffee in his hands, his bulk completely filling the doorframe. He regarded House questioningly, one eyebrow raised. "Good morning Dr. House", Thompson said, noticing House's ragged breathing and ashen appearance. "I hope I didn't alarm you…I wanted to ask you a few questions about what happened yesterday at the hospital." It was with some concern that he noticed the elevated rate of the blood flow pulsing visibly through the veins in House's neck.

"I'll tell you what happened", House growled. "You guys hung me out to dry. You believed that crap about Vogler getting on a plane and I got my ass beat as a result…" House knew that Thompson wasn't to blame and he almost felt guilty when the young man hung his head, looking mortified.

"Ah…yeah…sorry Doc, you're right. We screwed up…we shouldn't have pulled the detail…" Thompson glanced at him apologetically. "I…uh…brought you a coffee."

House looked at the peace-offering and his angry glare softened. "Well, at least you're good for something." The young man smirked ever so slightly. House moved aside and leaned tiredly against the wall. "I guess you'd better come in."

Thompson hesitated at the door. "Thanks Doc", he glanced behind him. "I've got my partner here too, is that okay?"

House rolled his eyes in feigned annoyance. "Sure, let's have a party." The truth was he was happy to have two police officers to keep him company for a while.

Thompson shouldered his way into the apartment followed closely by the pretty young policewoman House had seen briefly at the hospital yesterday. He suddenly realized that he was still clad in only his t-shirt and boxers and he felt himself blush self-consciously as she said good morning to him. She smiled politely and pretended not to notice the ugly contusions on his right leg. "I don't think we've been formally introduced, Dr. House", she said. She was carrying a coffee of her own. "I am Constable Ames."

"Yeah…well…Hi…" House turned towards the bedroom. "Have a seat officers. I'll just be a minute…" He shuffled painfully into his room, dragging his damaged right leg behind him, uncomfortably conscious of the eyes of Thompson and Ames as they followed his hobbling progress. He found his bathrobe and shrugged it on, knotting the belt around his waist, then after taking two Vicodin capsules, he slipped the bottle into one of the pockets.

The police officers were seated at opposite ends of the couch when he limped back into the room. Ames picked up the cordless phone that was wedged between the cushions and placed it upright on the coffee table. House glanced at it, hoping it wouldn't ring. He sank into his recliner and Thompson handed him a cup. "Hope you like it black, Doc."

House nodded, accepting the coffee and gratefully sipped the hot liquid. "Thank you", he said simply. They sat in silence for several moments; Ames was eyeing him closely as she drank her coffee. He felt unsettled by her unwavering scrutiny. "What are you looking at?" he asked finally. "Someone in your line of work must have seen her share of battered men in boxer shorts, right?"

"I was noticing your eyes…" she said. House looked confused, his eyebrows rising. "No, no...Sorry", she smiled amusedly. "I'm not trying to flirt with you Dr. House." Thompson snorted and she ignored at him. "What I meant is that I noticed that your eyes keep glancing at the phone. Are you expecting a call?"

House's eyes jumped once more to the cordless. "I…uh…no…" He was unsure why he was hesitant to tell them about Vogler's call. Maybe he believed that they hadn't really seen the fear on his face when he had first opened the door, or that they didn't recognize the relief in his voice when they identified themselves, or even that they weren't noticing right now that his hands were shaking as he held the coffee cup. Somehow, the thought that these two young people had seen the panic he let Vogler generate in him was humiliating. "No, I'm not expecting a…call."

Ames and Thompson exchanged a knowing glance. Thompson leaned forward, placing his coffee cup on the table and looked at House. "Excuse me for saying so, Doc, but you were looking plenty worried when we got here. I get the distinct impression something happened that got you pretty upset just before we arrived." House winced…Damn it, they had seen it all. "…And I must agree with my partner", Thompson continued. "You haven't taken your eyes off the phone for more than a few seconds since you sat down. What's going on?"

House sighed and closed his eyes. What the hell, these people were professionals at dealing with _pathetic victims_. "It wasn't anything, really…" he said quietly. "I shouldn't have let him get to me…"

Thompson and Ames sat quietly as he described the brief phone call. "Do you really think he was somehow aware of what was going on in your apartment?" Thompson asked. "Or was it a good guess?"

House shook his head. "I don't know…when he was speaking I had the impression he knew exactly what I was doing, who had been here…you know, everything." House felt a chill run down his spine. "The bastard probably knows that you two are here now."

"Well then", Ames said. "We should probably continue this conversation somewhere else. We'll get the techies to sweep this place while we're gone…you know to make sure no one's listening in for real."

House looked skeptical. "You mean you're going to check my apartment for bugs?" Thompson nodded. "Oh come on", House scoffed. "Don't humor me. There's no way the police would go that far to catch a guy who's wanted for simple assault and illegal stock trading!"

Thompson scowled, shaking his head. He got up from his seat on the couch and leaned in close enough to whisper in House's ear. "I guess it's time we told you Dr. House..." He spoke so quietly that House could barely hear him. "…Vogler's business partner was found dead early this morning. They've added murder to that list."

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House hadn't admitted it before, but the knowledge that Vogler could have killed him on two occasions and had not done so had been somehow strangely reassuring. He figured the bastard, as crazy as he might be, would draw the line at actually murdering someone. Now that reassurance was lost and the growing fear that House had been harboring since the first attack was evolving into a continuous state of near-panic...he felt like he couldn't breathe.

The look on Wilson's face as they drove towards the hospital indicated he was thinking along the same lines. He had been surprised when House had called him and asked for a ride to work. He had protested House going to work at all, of course, but was taken aback by the urgency in his friend's voice when he said, "I can't stay here…come get me…James, please." He checked the rearview mirror and was pleased to see the police car was still following. House sat in the passenger seat with eyes closed. Once in the car, he had filled Wilson in on this morning's threatening phone call, the visit by the police and the murder. Wilson sat, grim-faced, afraid for his friend, checking and re-checking the rearview mirror. He should never have left him alone…even with the police outside.

When they arrived, House limped slowly to his office accompanied by Wilson, with Thompson and Ames following patiently behind. Cameron was seated at his desk going through his mail when he finally staggered through the door. She looked up in surprise. "Dr. House", she exclaimed. "We didn't expect you to be in today…how are you feeling?"

House scowled, glancing at Foreman and Chase who had been in the conference room and were now entering his office with the same surprised expressions on their faces. "How do you think I'm feeling?" he growled. "I couldn't get any sleep at all with you lot playing Spin the Bottle in my living room all night." He settled into his armchair and glanced around the room. "Everyone, meet Sergeant Thompson and Constable Ames…" the two officers nodded in the general direction of House's staff. "…Sergeant Thompson and Constable Ames, meet everyone." Cameron, Foreman and Chase nodded at the two officers; Wilson just stood grimly with his hands jammed into the pockets of his white coat. "Now, everyone who is not Sergeant Thompson or Constable Ames, get out", House said. "We grownups have things to discuss that you kids don't need to be around to hear."

Cameron, Foreman and Chase all rolled their eyes and left House's office. Wilson didn't budge. "I'm staying", he said vehemently. House opened his mouth to argue, but changed his mind when he saw the look on Wilson's face. He couldn't quite identify the expression, but he got the definite idea that Wilson might hurt anyone who tried to force him to leave.

Ames pulled some forms out of her metal clipboard and placed them on the desk in front of her. "Okay then", she said. "I think it's about time we got a detailed account of the last two days from you, Dr. House." She glanced at Thompson who nodded his agreement. "Why don't you start with the morning it all started when you arrived at the clinic?"

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They were just finishing up the final details of his victim statement…God, why did he hate that title... when Cuddy entered the office. She nodded politely to the police officers and fixed a pointed stare at House. "What are you doing here?" she asked, a concerned look on her face. "You should be home in bed." He scowled at her. "And don't give me the pouting teenager routine", she continued. "You have a fractured rib, multiple contusions and your breathing is still compromised. I'm told that you could barely walk the distance to your office when you arrived…so I ask again, why are you here?"

House looked at her, trying to come up with a sarcastic comment about her psychological need to control everyone's life when Wilson spoke up. "Lisa, there's been some new developments." She glanced at him, uneasily recognizing the worry in his voice. "Why don't we go to my office? I'll fill you in while Greg finishes up with the police." She nodded and followed Wilson towards the door.

House watched them go, feeling like an errant schoolboy watching his parents entering the principal's office on parent-teacher night. This perception was further enhanced when Cuddy turned back towards him just before closing the door. "Don't you dare go anywhere until I come back…" she warned him. "…or else there'll be hell to pay."

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House sat tensely in his office armchair listening to the last refrains of an AC/DC song, trying unsuccessfully to clear his mind of the unrelenting parade of frightening scenarios that were running unwanted through it. Thompson and Ames had finished taking his statement and announced they had to go back to the police station to continue their investigation. House had felt a momentary surge of panic until Thompson reassured him that there were other police officers now posted at strategic locations throughout the hospital.

He glanced up impatiently as the CD ended, wondering what had happened to Cuddy; her admonishment to him to stay put was ringing through his ears. He needed to do something to occupy his mind and was considering going to see if they had any new patients. He was unsure why the thought of disobeying Cuddy made him feel guilty. It was never a problem before…in fact, he would have relished the idea of defying her. The image of Cuddy and Wilson coming back to find him gone, however, and the inevitable worry he knew this would cause them stopped him from leaving and kept him fretting anxiously in place. House already felt bad enough for causing his friends so much stress.

He looked up to see an unknown orderly show his hospital ID and a piece of paper to the policeman standing outside his door. The officer nodded and the orderly entered the office pushing a wheelchair. "Dr. House", the young man said, holding out the paperwork for him to see. "Dr. Cuddy ordered some more x-rays. Can you come with me please?"

House rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Why the hell does she need more films?" he grumbled. "I'm fine…"

The orderly shrugged. "I dunno Doc; she said something about your breathing sounding bad. I think she's going to meet us in radiology…Please, have a seat."

House looked at the chair suspiciously. The orderly followed his gaze and added, "I guess she doesn't think you can walk…" House started to protest but the young man pleaded. "Come on, Dr. House…I'm begging you…it's my first week here and she'll have my hide if I screw this up."

He sighed deeply, wincing at the stab of pain it caused. Damn…he had to admit, the thought of dragging himself all the way down to X-Ray was daunting. "Okay, okay…" Using the cane, he struggled to his feet then maneuvered himself into the wheelchair.

The orderly smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Doc…you're saving my ass." House closed his eyes and just nodded, out of breath from the exertion of standing up then sitting down again. God…maybe he did need some more tests… The orderly bent down, "Do you want me to take that?" he asked, reaching for the cane.

House jerked his eyes open and snatched the cane away from the young man's grasp. "I'll keep it", he growled. The orderly withdrew his hand quickly and did not ask again. He pushed the chair into the hallway, turning towards the elevator. House was pleased to see the police officer following closely behind.

They all entered the elevator and the orderly pressed the button for radiology. The policeman introduced himself as Constable Johnston. House looked up at him; Johnston looked like a football linesman, his hulking frame crammed into the corner of the small elevator.

A few minutes later, House was wheeled into the radiology department. He was relieved to see that it was empty of patients. "Where's Dr. Cuddy?" he asked the woman behind the desk.

She shrugged disinterestedly and took the paperwork from the orderly's hands. "We're ready for you now, Dr. House", she said. She looked at the orderly. "You can take him right in, Tom."

The orderly started to push the chair through the doors, stopping and holding up his hand towards Constable Johnston. "I'm sorry sir", the orderly said. "This is a radiation area. You can't come back here."

Johnston bristled. "If Dr. House goes back there, then I go back there." His tone did not invite any argument. House smirked.

The orderly gawked uneasily at the large policeman, "Okay, officer…if you insist…but you'll have to step out when I'm actually taking the x-ray. Deal?"

Johnston nodded, "Deal".

House was rolled into the x-ray room. "Please take off your shirt, Dr. House", the orderly directed. House complied, pulling his sweat shirt over his head. He was glad he had worn sweats today…no metal buttons or zippers so there would be no need to remove his pants. "Are you going to be able to stand while we take the picture, Doc?" House nodded, leaned on the cane and pulled himself to his feet. He painfully limped two steps to stand unsteadily facing the machine and the orderly rolled the chair out of the way. He then maneuvered House so his chest was squarely in front of the plates, placing a plastic chair to the left of where he stood. "Lean on this Dr. House. You'll have to put the cane down just for a moment…Let me hold it for you."

House shook his head vehemently. "I'll keep it.", he said. Holding onto the plastic chair with his left hand, he awkwardly bent down and placed the cane on the floor between his feet. "Now let's get this over with so I can sit down again."

The orderly nodded. He looked at Constable Johnston, "Okay officer, can you step into the waiting room for just a moment while I take the x-ray please? This shouldn't take more than thirty seconds or so."

Johnston looked at House. "I'll be right outside this door, Dr. House", the policeman said. "Just holler if you need anything." House nodded and watched him leave the room. He swayed unsteadily and looked down at his feet, grasping tightly to the plastic chair for support.

"_Well hello again, Greg_…" House felt the blood rush from his face and he jerked his head up to see Vogler closing the exit through which Johnston had just left. "I told you we'd be seeing each other soon." Grinning broadly, Vogler reached up and locked the door…


	8. Chapter 8

WOW…what a great response I got from the last chapter. I guess that was a bit of a nasty cliffhanger, but what can I say...I really enjoy keeping everyone guessing (including the unfortunate Dr. House). Thanks for all your reviews…you folks rock! I would truly appreciate it if you could be so kind as to keep your comments coming!

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Cuddy chewed on her lip in exasperation as she regarded House's empty armchair in his equally empty office. Where the heck did he get to this time? She had actually believed that this time he was going to heed her warning and stay put until she returned.

Wilson rushed into the room. "I got your page Lisa…what's up?" He looked around the office, apprehension clouding his face. "Oh, no…where the hell has he hobbled off to now?"

Cuddy's lips were set in a grim line. "I don't know, but we better track him down. He can't be far…the idiot can barely walk. At least the policeman who was been posted at the door is gone too…he must be following the invalid around."

Wilson nodded and they both headed into the hallway to start their search for House. They met Thompson and Ames brushing the snow off their coats in the hallway as they approached House's office. Thompson saw the worry in their faces, "Hi sir, ma'am…something wrong?"

Cuddy scowled. "Dr. House isn't in his office…we don't know where he's gone...I swear that man is determined to make my life hell!"

Ames spoke up, "Don't worry…several minutes ago, we received a radio call from Johnston, the officer who was posted at Dr. House's door. He advised us that Dr. House was being taken down to X-Ray…" Ames frowned suddenly, looking at Cuddy. "Hang on…Johnston said it was you, Dr. Cuddy, who had ordered the x-rays…"

Cuddy stood frozen in place with a look of horror on her face. "I didn't order any x-rays…Oh my god…House." Wilson blanched and started running for the stairs with Cuddy, Thompson and Ames hot on his heels.

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House felt the blood drain from his face as he watched Vogler bolt the door top and bottom. Oh shit…not again. He opened his mouth to yell for Johnston when he glimpsed the sudden movement behind him; trying to twist sideways, he was unable to dodge the stunning blow as the orderly pistol-whipped him viciously on the back of the head. His vision exploded into a sea of jagged lights and he groaned loudly as the room turned upside down. Trying to shout, all he managed was a strangled cry as he fell to the floor, his head spinning, his leg screaming in protest.

Everything was a blur and House grappled blindly on the floor with his hands, desperately searching for the cane. No…he wasn't going to pass out…he couldn't… He could feel blood running down the back of his neck as his hands finally grasped the wooden shaft and he rolled frantically sideways, clutching the cane to his chest. He ran heavily into the side of the x-ray machine knocking the air out of his lungs and causing a new surge of pain in his ribs. House looked up to see the orderly rapidly retrieving a gurney that had been placed against the far wall of the room. His head spun and he struggled to sit up as Vogler approached, that nasty, wolfish smile smeared across his face. Hefting the cane in his hands, House swung it wildly, smashing it against Vogler's left knee with all the strength he could muster. Vogler staggered sideways, hissing at the unexpected blow, but managed to stay on his feet. House swung the cane again, this time connecting hard with Vogler's shin. Enraged, Vogler stood back and kicked House ferociously in the elbow, knocking the cane painfully out of his hands as House flailed desperately, trying in vain to stop it from flying out of his grasp.

Vogler grinned and backhanded House hard across the face, knocking him to the ground once again. His head hit the floor and he moaned as he felt himself teetering on the edge consciousness. House tried to crawl towards the fallen cane but was stopped by the orderly who forcefully grabbed his right leg, his fingers brutally digging into the damaged muscles of House's thigh.

House cried out in agony as his leg lurched and the muscles went into a spasm. Vogler clapped his large hand over House's mouth, strangling the sound and looked hurriedly at the door. "Get him on the gurney", he snarled at the orderly. "Come on…we've gotta go!"

House fought frantically as he was dragged roughly onto the gurney. No way…no fucking way. He tried to wrestle out of the orderly's grasp and managed to kick the young man hard in the face with his left foot. The orderly gasped in anger and viciously twisted the thigh muscle gripped in his hand. House screamed loudly and his stomach convulsed. He looked up in time to see Vogler launch a punch at his head. There was a stunning impact then...darkness. House finally stopped struggling, his body going limp as he passed out.

Johnston's head snapped up as he heard what sounded like a scream; he immediately tried to push his way through the door to find it unexpectedly bolted shut. He called out to House and the orderly, demanding entry. Receiving no response, he paused momentarily to listen, recognizing the unmistakable sounds of a struggle taking place inside the x-ray room. Cursing, he rammed the door with his shoulder to no avail, then, standing back he tried to kick it in. Something cracked under his foot but the door did not give way. He kicked it again and again as he pulled out his radio to call for backup. He noticed that the receptionist who had been at the desk when they had arrived was suddenly nowhere to be seen.

Vogler glared at the orderly. "Move...now." They maneuvered the gurney holding the unconscious House through an emergency exit at the back of the x-ray room and down a service corridor. They could hear the sounds of Constable Johnston smashing his foot against the double-bolted door as he fought to kick it in.

Vogler and the orderly wheeled the gurney sharply around a ninety-degree corner where a laundry hamper waited. Pausing for a few seconds, they each shrugged into a dark uniform jacket, their shoulders now emblazoned with the crest of an EMT paramedic. Suitably attired, they hurriedly pushed the gurney through a service door leading to the underground parking garage and to an ambulance that was waiting, its engine running. One of Vogler's goons was sitting impatiently in the driver's seat. The orderly threw open the rear doors of the ambulance and he and Vogler bent down and quickly lifted the gurney into the vehicle; the younger man then jumped into the back with House and Vogler moved rapidly to the passenger seat beside the waiting driver. "Drive", he snarled. The tires spun as the goon gunned the engine; finally finding traction, the ambulance veered towards the exit ramp.

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Wilson sprinted out of the stairwell towards Radiology with Thompson, Ames and Cuddy close behind. He rounded a corner and felt a surge of panic as he saw a large policeman trying to kick in the doors of the x-ray room. "No, no...No!" he yelled as he joined the officer in kicking at the door. Thompson didn't slow his approach and ran at full tilt between the two men, roaring as he rammed the door with his shoulder. Whether it was the adrenalin that was raging through his veins or the fact that Johnston's efforts had already weakened the door was unclear, but there was an ear-splitting crack and the hinges finally gave way. Thompson fell through the opening, landing heavily on the floor inside the x-ray room. Wilson and Cuddy pushed their way in with Ames and Johnston on their heels.

"Oh my God...no." Cuddy looked around the empty room. She opened her mouth in shock at the sight of the blood on the ground and House's cane lying abandoned in the middle of the floor. Wilson's knees gave way and he sagged against the wall, a look of horror on his face.

Ames didn't hesitate for an instant, running through the x-ray room and out the open back door, Johnston right with her. The two officers raced down the narrow corridor and around the corner where Ames almost tripped over the empty laundry hamper. Cursing, she regained her balance and she and Johnston crashed through the service exit into the garage. The exhaust fumes hung in the air as they watched the ambulance speed up the ramp towards the exit. Ames was yelling over the police radio, calling for the vehicle to be intercepted. Johnston angrily turned away and punched the steel door in frustration with his fist as the ambulance disappeared from view.

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The blaring of sirens cut through the fog in his mind and House lurched upright in panic as he regained consciousness. He was able to make out the inside of an ambulance before the orderly punched him hard in the face, knocking him back down onto the gurney. House cursed, swinging his fists wildly at his attacker, fighting to sit up again. "He's awake!" the orderly yelled and House caught a glimpse of Vogler's scowling face looking at him from the passenger seat.

"Strap him down you idiot!" Vogler roared. He tried unsuccessfully to climb into the back of the ambulance, his bulk preventing him from squeezing through the small opening. The orderly jumped to his feet and threw all of his weight onto House's chest, pinning him down while he reached with one hand and tried to pull the belts over House's legs.

_"Get the fuck off me!" _House roared, snaking his body side to side. Disregarding the crushing pain in his battered ribs, House struggled frantically against the man laying on his chest. Enraged, he twisted his hips sharply sideways, forcing his weight onto his screaming right side and kicked out savagely with his left foot, striking the hand that was trying to secure the straps. The orderly cursed and pulled his damaged hand away. He could hear Vogler trying to yell commands over the sirens. The ambulance veered sharply around a corner and the orderly was thrown backwards; House flipped his upper body over onto his right shoulder and, grabbing the side of the gurney for leverage, launched a vicious left kick at his attacker's head, smashing him hard in the temple. The orderly's eyes rolled up and he collapsed to the floor of the ambulance.

House frantically pulled himself to a standing position, balancing unsteadily on his left foot as he clutched the side of a storage cabinet for support. His head reeled and he groaned at the searing pain in his leg. He looked up to see Vogler, still trapped in the cab of the ambulance. "Don't move", Vogler growled, his face a mask of fury; he had a pistol aimed at House's chest. Holy shit.

House froze, staring down the barrel of the gun, fully expecting Vogler to pull the trigger. He took a faltering step backwards towards the rear of the ambulance, still clutching the cabinet to stop himself from falling. He staggered back one more step and bumped into the back doors. Maybe, just maybe, if he timed it right... Gasping for breath, he scowled at Vogler, raising both hands above his head in surrender. "Take it easy Vogler..."

The leering smile returned momentarily to Vogler's face, disappearing as he heard the sirens of the pursuing police cars getting closer. He took his gaze off House for a fraction of a second to yell something at the driver. That was the moment House was waiting for...he quickly dropped his right hand behind his back and grasped the latch securing the rear doors of the ambulance. Vogler looked back just in time to see the doors swing open and House, his eyes clamped shut in determination, twist his body around and launch himself into space. The last thing he heard was Vogler shouting in absolute fury.

House screamed as he hit the road with a stunning impact, rolling over and over and over; he tried to protect his head with his arms, his bare torso scraping the pavement, his legs getting thrown around like those of a rag doll as the momentum carried him forward. It felt as if his body was coming apart at the seams. He saw a cascade of lights, heard the deafening din of sirens and squealing tires as the pursuing police car came terrifyingly close to running him over. Finally, everything stopped moving and he lay still. He gasped desperately, unable to find any air, unable even to cry out in pain at the agony exploding in his leg. Someone was suddenly beside him, touching his shoulder and he forced his eyes open in alarm...closing them again in relief at the sight of a police uniform. He heard a woman's voice yelling for an ambulance.

The policewoman looked down at the battered and bleeding doctor. She was unsettled to see a savage smile float fleetingly across his bloodied face. House looked into her eyes and rasped, "Tell Wilson...I didn't give up...tell him..." Was that pride she heard in his voice? House gasped again as an excruciating spasm coursed through his leg. Overwhelmed by the shock and the pain, he finally, mercifully, lost consciousness ...


	9. Chapter 9

So the saga continues…thanks a bunch to all my reviewers! You sure motivate me to keep going. Please, please, please…don't stop.

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Wilson walked like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders, his head down, hands jammed into the pockets of his white coat and his mouth set in a grim line. He found himself headed towards House's office. Cuddy was still with the police in Radiology, going over what had happened. Wilson couldn't stand being in that empty x-ray room; he couldn't stop his eyes from staring at the small pool of congealing blood …Greg's blood…or the cane lying abandoned in the middle of the floor. He had wanted so badly to pick it up; to keep it with him…the cane was the only part of Greg he could hold on to. He wanted to keep it safe…like he'd failed to keep _him_ safe. The police had objected of course; they had to take photos of the crime scene. Wilson scowled. _Crime scene_…God, that description had an ominous ring to it.

Wilson hesitated at the entrance to House's office. He heard Chase and Foreman discussing some patient in the conference room. Cameron looked up from House's mail and spotted him standing dejectedly in the doorway. She recognized the anguish on his face and her expression clouded in fear. "Dr. Wilson…what's wrong?" Wilson grimaced and looked away; he had to hold it together. Chase and Foreman came in after hearing Cameron's question; they too saw the distress in Wilson's eyes.

Wilson looked at his feet, his hands still jammed into his pockets. "It's House", he said quietly. "Someone…Vogler, it had to be Vogler…took him…" Cameron gasped as Wilson's voice broke ever so slightly. "Somehow, they got him to go down to x-ray…there was a struggle, the policeman was locked outside…." Chase gulped and looked at Cameron whose eyes were starting to well up with tears. Wilson continued, "…He's…he's gone…" he couldn't keep the quaver out of his voice.

Foreman looked grim. "How the hell did they…?" his question was interrupted by Wilson's pager suddenly going off. Wilson's hand flew to his pocket; it was shaking as he fumbled with the pager, finally managing to pull it out. No one made a sound as Wilson held his breath and read the message scrolling across the tiny screen.

Closing his eyes, he exhaled audibly, his shoulders slumping as he leaned against the doorframe. He looked up to see three pairs of anxious eyes watching him apprehensively. Wilson allowed himself a ghost of a smile, "He's on his way back…the police have him…" He saw relief flood into the faces around him. Wilson glanced down at the pager again; scowling, he held up a hand, the fear returning in his eyes as he read the final text of the message. "Wait…they're bringing him to the ER…they've called a trauma alert." The hopeful expressions around him fell and the four doctors sprinted towards the trauma bay.

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Pain…oh God…he hurt. Everything hurt. House gasped for breath as the now-familiar sound of a siren stabbed agonizingly into his throbbing head. He moaned and fiercely fought his way towards consciousness. Still in the ambulance. Shit. He thought he'd jumped…what the hell happened? He tried to move but could not…. something was holding him down. Panicking, he tried to open his eyes and frantically struggled against the restraints. Ow…shit…his back was on fire. He gasped again; there was an oxygen mask covering his face but he couldn't get enough air. He heard a voice… Who was that? What were they saying? Someone's hands were on his shoulders, gently pushing him back down. He finally managed to pry open his eyelids and was able to make out the shape of a face leaning over him. Not Vogler…thank God. He heard the voice again, this time clearer. "Try to calm down, Sir…it's okay…you've been injured…we're taking you to the hospital." Different ambulance…oh yeah…he did jump after all… He stopped struggling and tried to lie back down, moaning again as a wave of pain surged through his right leg. His back burned as it settled onto the gurney. Damn, he was seriously screwed up. He closed his eyes, grimacing as the ambulance bounced through a pothole. House felt himself drifting back towards unconsciousness. He was so tired…

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Wilson reached the ER with House's team as the ambulance was pulling up outside. The news of House's situation had spread rapidly through the hospital and a crowd of curious employees was now gathering in the hallway. Cuddy was there, yelling for everyone to get out of the way. He spied the bulky frame of Sgt. Thompson, trying to clear a path, pushing people back. Wilson shoved his way through the mob and saw the paramedics rush a gurney through the doors; he gasped in horror when he saw the blood staining the sheet under House's head and neck. His friend's eyes were closed and his ashen face was set into a rigid grimace, an oxygen mask covering his mouth and nose. The gurney was rushed through the inner doors and into the trauma bay. Wilson tried to follow but was abruptly halted by Cuddy, who grabbed his shoulders and stopped him from entering.

"James…you shouldn't go in there", she said gently. She looked up to see Cameron, Foreman and Chase standing right behind Wilson, the same intent plain on their faces. "None of us needs to be in there." Wilson started to protest but Cuddy didn't let go of him. He angrily pulled away from her grip when he noticed the distress also present in her eyes. She bit her lip. "We've got to let the trauma docs do their job…" she sighed sadly. "If we go in there, we'll be too emotionally involved to be objective…we'll just get in their way…" Wilson heard her voice catch. He nodded slowly and wrapped his arms around Cuddy's shaking shoulders, pulling her to his chest in a compassionate hug.

Foreman, Chase and Cameron also nodded, their expressions grim. Cameron reached up and wiped a tear from her cheek…she knew Cuddy was right but it was so hard to not force her way in there…someone should be with him to hold his hand. She swallowed involuntarily and tried to put on a brave face. "He's going to be fine…" she whispered. Her colleagues looked at her, each trying to match her hopeful expression. "He's going to be fine"; she said it firmly this time, her jaw set in determination.

Thompson came over with a concerned expression on his face, followed closely by his partner. Ames was the first to speak; her tone was gentle. "Dr. Wilson, Dr. Cuddy…." she looked at Cameron, Foreman and Chase. "…everyone. Has anyone told you yet what happened?"

Wilson shook his head. "How did you find him?" His voice shook. "…what did they… he…do to him?"

They stood in shocked silence as they listened to Ames recount the story of House's leap from the speeding ambulance. "The pursuing police car almost hit him", she added. "He was still conscious when the officer reached him." Ames looked up at Wilson. "He wanted the officer to tell you Dr. Wilson…he didn't give up…" Wilson smiled grimly. Everyone looked at him curiously but no one asked.

The next twenty minutes seemed to drag by as they anxiously paced the hallway outside of the trauma bay. Finally, the door opened and the head of the trauma department came out, looking for Cuddy. They all gathered around him as he delivered the news. "Okay, Dr. House has been stabilized…" There was a general sigh of relief. "He was conscious when they brought him in, but he was in a hell of a lot of pain and having difficulty breathing so he was sedated and intubated, just to get his O2 sats up. His chest x-ray showed that he's got two new rib fractures, the lung had collapsed again and there was air in the pleural cavity. He's got a chest tube in now and the lung appears to be re-expanding. You can go back and see him now if you want. He'll be taken down to CT shortly just to make sure he's not bleeding internally. We'll do a head CT too, just in case, but there didn't seem to be any neurological issues while he was conscious."

Wilson, Cuddy and the three young doctors shuffled quietly into the trauma bay. House lay unmoving on the bed, a blanket covering him from the waist down; his eyes were closed and a breathing tube was taped to the skin beside his mouth. He was hooked up to an IV and a chest tube snaked out of the incision that had been reopened in the side of his ribcage. Wilson grimaced when he saw that House's torso was covered in ugly abrasions and scrapes from his tumble onto the pavement. He looked over at the trauma head who had followed them back inside. "Anything else you're not telling us?"

The trauma doctor shook his head. "That's pretty much it…" he answered. "It looks like he has first and second degree abrasions on his back, arms and his chest. The legs are better but still fairly banged up. We'll x-ray all his extremities once we make sure that there's no internal bleeding."

Wilson was silent, staring grimly at House's chest as it rose and fell with the hiss of the ventilator. Cuddy nodded. "Thanks, Allen", she said to the trauma doctor. She looked at Wilson. "James, why don't you stay with him? Let me know if there's any change." Wilson nodded. She motioned for House's three young employees to follow her into the hallway.

Cameron paused, looking over at her unconscious boss, her expression unreadable. After Cuddy and her two colleagues were gone, she walked to the side of the bed then reached over and hesitantly stroked House's cheek gently with her fingertips. She glanced at Wilson with tears in her eyes. He nodded in understanding, and tried his best to smile reassuringly. "I'll watch him, Allison", he said. "I promise you, I won't leave him alone again…"

"And neither will I." They turned quickly, startled by the unexpected voice. It was Thompson; he stood in the doorway, a grim look on his face. "I am not going anywhere until we catch this guy." Wilson and Cameron nodded gratefully. Cameron touched House's cheek once more, then blinking back tears, she quickly left the trauma bay.

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House came to slowly, the hiss of the ventilator filling his ears. He recognized the numbing sensation of some kind of powerful narcotic coursing through his system; his entire body ached and he felt a burning sensation across his back, but the meds made it tolerable. He tried to cough and gagged uncomfortably on the tube snaking down his throat. Shit…intubated. He opened his eyes and blearily tried to focus on his surroundings.

"So, you've finally decided to wake up..." It was Wilson's voice. House glanced over and managed to focus on his friend's grimly smiling face. Forgetting for a moment about the breathing tube, he tried to speak, managing only a muffled grunt. He coughed painfully around the tube. Wilson was on his feet in a second, and gently laid a hand on House's shoulder. "Don't try to speak…we've got you on a ventilator." House's eyes were questioning as he looked into Wilson's face. "It's okay", Wilson continued. "You busted a couple more ribs and your lung collapsed again." House grimaced. He hated the sensation of the machine breathing for him; he tried stubbornly to sit up.

Wilson scowled. "No way, Greg…for the love of God…please, just lie still…" He grasped House's shoulders and pushed him back down as gently as he could. House jammed his eyes shut and grunted with pain as Wilson pressed his back into the mattress. Wilson cringed and drew his hands back in alarm. "Sorry…sorry…I forgot about your back." House opened his eyes fiercely and looked up at Wilson once more. "You scraped yourself up pretty good", Wilson explained. "Hitting the pavement at high speed will do that to you, you know…what the hell were you thinking?"

House scowled. About not getting shot you idiot…what do you think? He grunted again, frustrated at not being able to respond with one of his customary scathing remarks. He glared at Wilson, daring his friend to stop him as once more he struggled to sit up. Wilson rolled his eyes in exasperation, then reached out pressed the button on the hospital bed to raise the head of the bed until House was lying in a semi-sitting position. House grunted in pain and hugged his ribs. "You are one stubborn SOB", Wilson complained. He didn't want to admit it, but he was pleased to see his friend's defiant attitude.

House reached up and started to pull on the tape around the breathing tube. Wilson cursed and grabbed his wrists. "No freaking way, Greg…you are not pulling the tube out!" House glowered at him. "Don't give me that look", Wilson scolded. "I'll restrain you if you don't stop acting like an idiot." House's blue eyes locked on his…Wilson could see he was trying to decide if he was serious. "Oh yes I would…" he warned. House grunted again and laid his arms back down at his sides; even with the breathing tube, Wilson could see he was sulking like a frustrated teenager.

Wilson grinned widely. "You know, I could get used to this…" House looked at him suspiciously as Wilson continued. "I think this is the first conversation we've ever had when I've been able to have the last word." House glared at him angrily, but Wilson could see a hint of amusement in his eyes.

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Thompson stood in the hallway outside of Dr. House's hospital room. He had been advised that the ambulance had been found abandoned and Vogler was nowhere to be found. He scowled, listening to his radio. Ames was saying something about a hospital employee who admitted to having been paid off by Vogler to smuggle him in and out of the hospital's underground parking garage in her SUV. Ames and Johnston had the woman in custody and were taking her to the station for further questioning. Thompson shook his head, angry with himself for not ordering all vehicles searched before they entered the garage. Frowning, he clipped the radio back on his duty belt. He wondered how many other people in the hospital might be working for Vogler and when the next one would take a run at Dr. House.


	10. Chapter 10

So you want to know what happens next…hee, hee, hee. I think we need a bit more of a rest before the action begins again. Thanks so much to all my trusty reviewers … boredandhomealone, becca4521, evila-elf, nanashi-reikon, felixgirl, Andy Osnard, Alipeeps, Microchips, Aldrex, Knight Wild, blueyedluv, bmax and all the rest of you who have been so very kind! Please don't stop…your reviews truly make my day, not to mention you motivate me to want to keep going!

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Chapter 10

Wilson sat slumped in an armchair, his head tilted back at an awkward angle as he dozed fitfully beside the hospital bed. He awoke with a start and sat up, wincing as he stretched the knot that had formed in the muscles of his neck. He rubbed the affected area absentmindedly with his hand as he looked blearily at his watch; two o'clock in the morning. God, it felt like this night would never end. He looked over at the sleeping form of his friend; he had refused to leave House's bedside since he had been brought up from the trauma bay. House's eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling in time with the steady hiss of the ventilator. Wilson watched as he twitched in his sleep and grimaced in pain, whimpering quietly around the breathing tube.

Wilson regarded him sadly, wondering how much more punishment his friend could take. He looked up to see Thompson standing in the doorway, two steaming cups of coffee held in his large hands. True to his word, the policeman had not left the hospital, remaining even after another officer had replaced him on the post at the door to House's room. Thompson stepped quietly around the bed and handed Wilson a coffee which the oncologist gratefully accepted.

They were silent for several seconds, each regarding the sleeping House. "Is he gonna be okay?" Thompson asked quietly. "He looks like hell."

Wilson snorted in agreement, his eyes never leaving House's face. The stitched laceration on his left cheek looked ragged where the sutures had ripped open in the fall from the ambulance and his eye was bruised and swollen. He had ugly abrasions running down the back of his neck, over his shoulders and disappearing front and back beneath the blanket. There was a small amount of fluid still oozing from the sutured cut in his scalp where he had been pistol-whipped. Perhaps worst of all was the plastic tube that snaked down his throat…helping him breathe, sure… but a constant reminder of how seriously injured he really was. The head of the respirology department had checked on him earlier that evening, insisting despite House's glare, that the ventilator was absolutely necessary; that his damaged lungs could not manage on their own. He had explained that not only the lung that had collapsed was injured; House's other lung was also severely bruised. Wilson had seen the frustration in his friend's eyes but had stopped him from pulling the tube out after the specialist had departed, threatening once again to restrain House if he didn't cooperate. House had called his bluff, and tried to extubate himself anyway, not believing Wilson would really do it. The look of betrayal in House's eyes as Wilson strapped his wrists to the bedrails was one that broke Wilson's heart.

Wilson sighed, answering the policeman's question. "He's pretty banged up but he should be fine, if he could just get the chance to heal." The unspoken words in his sentence were clear…if he doesn't get attacked again… Thompson nodded glumly. The young policeman couldn't help but feel responsible for his inability to protect Dr. House.

They both looked up in surprise to see Cameron enter the room. "How's he doing?" she asked quietly.

Wilson tried to look composed. "He's sleeping…" He watched Cameron's face as she regarded the motionless House. She frowned suddenly, noticing the restraints on his wrists and then shot an angry, accusing glance at Wilson. Wilson held up his hands apologetically, his scowl matching hers. "Don't say it Allison…it was for his own good…" She could see the guilt in his eyes and her glare softened. "He forced my hand", Wilson continued sadly. "…kept trying to pull the breathing tube out, even after I warned him." Wilson smiled ever so slightly. "You know House…he's such a jerk sometimes."

Cameron smiled just a little too, nodding her head. She knew he was right; she wondered if she would have had the guts to do the same thing. She looked at Wilson, the exhaustion obvious in the lines on his face. "Why don't you go lie down on the couch in your office? I'll stay here." Wilson started to protest. Cameron put her hand on his, "Dr. Wilson, you need to get some sleep." She looked at Thompson. "You both do…you'll be no good to him if you're too tired to stand up." She motioned towards the door. "There's a policeman sitting right outside that door who is awake and alert and is not going anywhere. Neither am I. I'll page you if there is any change."

Wilson regarded her for just a moment, not wanting to leave but knowing that she was right. He sighed, rubbed the back of his neck and nodded grimly. "Okay, Allison…okay. I'll be in my office but promise me you won't let him pull that tube out if he wakes up. He really doesn't need a respiratory crisis." She nodded. Wilson looked at Thompson. "What about you Sergeant? Maybe you should grab a quick nap yourself."

Thompson hesitated. He too, was exhausted, but he didn't want to leave. "I think I'll just sit right outside with my colleague", he said. "The nurse kindly brought over another armchair…I think it's some kind of recliner. Maybe I can snooze for a bit in that and then I'm right there if something happens." He wore the guilt he felt from not stopping the previous incidents clearly on his face.

Wilson nodded, feeling sorry for the young man yet grateful that he wanted to stay put. Taking one last glance at House, he turned and walked tiredly out of the room, headed for the sofa in his office and some much needed rest.

Thompson looked over at Cameron, who was standing beside House's bed. "I will be right outside", he said. She nodded and he went through the door, closing it quietly behind him. Cameron stood still for a long time and stared at House, listening to him breathe with the help of the ventilator. She saw a shudder run through his body as he slept; he grimaced and reflexively tried to pull his arms into his sides, moaning softly around the breathing tube as he unconsciously fought the restraints. She felt her eyes well up with tears. Whispering softly, she stroked his forehead gently, her voice soothing. "Shhh…Go back to sleep…its okay…I'm here." He stopped struggling and his features relaxed as she caressed his face. She continued to stroke his forehead until she was certain that he was once again sleeping peacefully. Stifling a sob, Cameron reached up and wiped the tears from her cheeks, then curled up in the armchair beside House's bed. She wondered, not for the first time, why this inscrutable man provoked such strong emotions in her.

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House became aware of his surroundings very slowly as he woke up. His first sensation was that of pain; he felt an ache that seemed to encompass his entire body, particularly his head and his chest. Ow…shit. He shifted slightly on the bed and gasped as the fire in his right leg exploded. He tried to cry out but managed only a strangled groan around the tube in his throat. Oh yeah…Breathing tube… Trying to open his eyes, he reached down to hug his leg…as he always did when the pain was this bad… but was stopped abruptly by the restraints. Goddamn it…he struggled madly against the straps for a moment; his eyes jammed shut from the agony in his leg. Finally, he gave up, laying still and feeling powerless as the pain surged unobstructed through his body. Completely discouraged, he felt a single tear slide unwanted down his cheek.

He was startled by a soft touch on his face as someone wiped the tear from his face. House opened his eyes to see Cameron leaning once again over his bed; her eyes were threatening to shed their own tears as she smiled gently, looking into his eyes. "It's alright Dr. House…You're okay." He winced and turned his face away, wishing she was not here to see him like this. She withdrew her hand quickly, "Are you in pain?" He rolled his eyes, grunting around the tube. God, he sounded pathetic. "I'll get you some more Demerol…" She moved quickly, pleased to be able to do _something_ for him. He cursed inwardly, trying to will the pain away, humiliated that she was here to see him tied to the bed like some whacked out psych patient. He angrily struggled against the restraints once more. Goddamn Wilson. House knew that the restraints were his own fault; that his stubbornness had put his best friend in a position where he'd had no choice, but it was easy to let the anger flow…somehow made the pain seem less severe.

Cameron came back into the room and hung a dose of Demerol on his IV post, adding it to the fluid drip entering his left arm, then picked up House's chart and started making notes. House was just beginning to feel the Demerol's effects when Wilson rushed into the room…Cameron had evidently paged him. He looked at House, an apologetic plea in his eyes. House just scowled at him…unforgiving. Wilson could read exactly what House was thinking in his friend's expressive eyes. Not only was he still frustrated at being on the ventilator and mad as hell at being tied down, he was really pissed that Wilson had let Cameron see him like this. Wilson gulped, "Sorry, Greg…" He looked downcast. "I thought I'd be back before you woke up…" his voice trailed off and he had a hard time meeting House's gaze.

House's glare softened somewhat…hell it had been his own fault…he lifted his arms up to the extent the restraints allowed, making it clear that he wanted the straps off. Wilson nodded. "Okay…but first you have to promise me you won't try to remove the tube before the respirologist examines you." House scowled deeply. Why wouldn't they just leave him be? Finally he closed his eyes and nodded in exasperation. Wilson smiled and unbuckled the straps and House stretched his arms gratefully above his head. The Demerol was really kicking in and he felt drowsy; he closed his eyes and felt himself drifting once more. Wilson and Cameron watched him as he fell asleep, the steady hiss of the ventilator somehow soothing in its rhythm.

Thompson stuck his head in and motioned for them to join him in the hallway. Cuddy was there, looking as exhausted as the rest of them. Thompson tried to stifle a yawn, and then looked at the three doctors standing in front of him. "I just got an update from Constable Ames", he said with a serious look on his face. "The suspect that they have in custody was not able to give us any names of others who are working for Vogler, but she thinks there are at least two or three more here in this hospital that might be."

Wilson, Cuddy and Cameron looked grim. Now it was no longer just Vogler they had to worry about. Wilson sighed and looked at the sleeping form of House through the open door of the hospital room. He looked so defenseless.


	11. Chapter 11

So you want to know who is working for Vogler…mwahahaha…

Thanks as always for all the great reviews! Please keep letting me know what you think…and thanks to MLN for pointing out that a lung/breathing specialist is referred to as a pulmonologist in the U.S.! I'll make the necessary changes in the story.

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The employees of Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital were slowly becoming accustomed to the constant presence of uniformed police officers in their midst, particularly on the floor on which the irascible Dr. House was a patient. Almost two days had passed since his abduction and his subsequent leap from the speeding ambulance, and his physical condition was slowly improving. His nurses had tried to be ever-so-understanding at first; House despised their pity-filled looks and oh-so-sympathetic words of encouragement and made it his mission in life to piss them off. They quickly stopped feeling sorry for him after having to put up with his petulance and bad temper, and had now resorted to calling in Wilson or Cuddy who could coerce him into behaving when they needed to do anything for him. Everyone was dreading the day the pulmonologist decided that the ventilator was no longer needed. With House still intubated, at least they were able to enjoy the luxury of not having to put up with what they knew would be a never-ending stream of biting comments, unreasonable complaints and off-color remarks.

House had adamantly rejected Wilson's offer to keep him sedated until he no longer needed the ventilator; he preferred to live with the discomfort of the machine breathing for him than to be kept under, completely out of control of what happened to him. Wilson and Cuddy both knew that part of him was still terrified at the prospect of waking up and finding out they had done something to him while he slept, so they didn't argue; Wilson did take the opportunity to make him promise not to be a jerk and try remove the tube again.

It was early afternooon and Wilson nodded to the policeman sitting at the door as he strode impatiently into House's room. After having been paged, _again, _he expected to see another dispute ongoing between House and one of the nurses. Instead, he was surprised to find Cameron, Chase and Foreman there, with the whiteboard from House's office propped up beside House's bed. Apparently they had a new patient…a list of symptoms were scrawled on the board in Foreman's handwriting. The head of House's bed was raised and he clutched a pillow to his chest with his left arm as he tried to support his aching ribs. He held a pen in his right hand and a notebook containing several scribbled words lay open on the bed. Evidently, House's team was consulting him on their diagnosis. Wilson looked House over carefully. His friend looked terrible; his sweaty skin was pale and gray and he winced each time his chest heaved with the hiss of the ventilator. His pulse rate was displayed visually and audibly by the monitor beside the bed …Wilson scowled…he was almost tachycardic…his heart was racing way too fast. House was trying to write something on his pad, but his hand shook severely and he kept dropping the pen. Wilson frowned in concern; this just wasn't right.

"What are you three doing?" Wilson asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. "He is supposed to be resting…you know….like not working?" He glared at the three young doctors. "His pulse is too high…you all know what's been going on… …he needs time to recuperate." Wilson walked over to the side of the bed and, ignoring House's glower, pressed the button to lower the head of the bed. House grunted in annoyance and grimaced as the mattress behind his back descended; he tried to remain vertical but was incapable of sitting upright unsupported and soon gave up, grumbling incoherently as his torso was involuntarily lowered until he lay prone, his head slightly lower than the rest of his body. Wilson returned House's cold stare. "This might help get your heart rate under control", he said. "You should know better", he chided. "How the hell are you ever going to improve if you don't let yourself recover?" House shot Wilson a scathing look, irritation evident in his eyes.

House's staff looked at Wilson with guilty expressions on their faces. "We have a new patient", Foreman began, "We figured House could use the distraction…" House nodded his head vigorously. He had been feeling particularly anxious and jumpy all afternoon and welcomed the diversion; it was good to think about something other than when and how Vogler would show up again.

Cameron spoke up, "We're kinda stumped on this one Dr. Wilson…we really do need his help." Chase nodded his agreement. Wilson didn't fail to notice the sudden look of annoyance that flashed across Foreman's face; here was one person who didn't want to admit that he needed House's help.

Wilson's glare faded somewhat. "Okay, okay…fine. Just do me a favour, keep an eye on his vitals and don't get him tired; he's still very weak, you know." House looked indignant. Wilson ignored him and continued, "Anyway…why did you page me?"

They all looked at him blankly. "We didn't page you…" Chase said, sounding confused.

Wilson blinked at them in surprise. "You didn't page me…well then who did?" He motioned towards House, "I figured he was harassing the nursing staff again …or, maybe the pulmonologist was here trying to do a follow up examination and House was giving him a hard time…"

They all shook their heads. "We've been here about a half hour and haven't seen anyone else…" Cameron said. "…and the nurses won't come in unless they absolutely have to."

Wilson looked at his pager; maybe he was seeing things. Nope…there it was…the message he had received only minutes ago…. _House's room, now_… He looked up. "That's weird", he said, a hint of concern in his voice. They were startled by the sudden jangling of the telephone that sat on the table next to the bed; House winced in pain as the unexpected sound made him recoil reflexively, drawing his legs towards his chest. He glanced back towards the phone, apprehension now evident in his eyes. He cursed inwardly as the rapid beeps coming from the heartrate monitor quickened their tempo even more. Chase looked at the display with some concern, glancing back at House uneasily. He was surprised to see that House was visibly trembling.

The phone rang again; for a moment, no one moved, then Wilson reached over and slowly lifted the receiver to his ear. "Hello?" he said, uncertainty in his voice.

"Why hello Dr. Wilson…" Wilson paled. It was Vogler. "I am pleased that you got my page. I wanted you there to answer the phone and pass on my deepest get well wishes to Dr. House…I know that he's not able to talk at the moment." House was staring intently at Wilson, disturbed by the anger that suddenly clouded his friend's face; he knew immediately that Vogler had to be on the other end of the line. He swallowed involuntarily, managing only to gag painfully on the breathing tube. Damn. He felt like he was choking.

Wilson felt his rage building; this was the bastard who was hurting his best friend… "Leave him alone…" he growled menacingly. " …or I swear to God I'll kill you…stay the hell away from him!" Cameron, Foreman and Chase looked at him quickly, shocked at his outburst.

House scowled; grunting from the pain in his ribs, he groped one hand across the phone, finally finding and depressing the hands-free button. He blanched slightly at the sound of Vogler's voice; everyone in the room could hear the nasty sneer on the man's face as he spoke. "Now come on Dr. Wilson…" he drawled. "…why would you go and say something like that? You know, I am actually very fond of Greg." House rolled his eyes, feeling a sudden tightness forming in his chest. "I was so disappointed when he had to leave our last get-together early…" Vogler sounded smug, "I had such wonderful things planned for him and he ruined it all...now I've been forced to reschedule everything." House gagged, grunting as he felt the tightness in his chest amplify into stabbing chest pains; despite the steady hiss of the ventilator, he couldn't seem to breathe. He grunted uncomfortably and made a painful retching sound. Wilson frowned and tried unsuccessfully to shut off the speakerphone while Vogler continued. "…anyway, I really must go and let all you doctor types get back to diagnosing that new patient of yours." Cameron, Foreman and Chase looked from one to another in disbelief. "Tell House that I hope he gets that breathing tube out quickly and I'll be seeing him again very, very soon…" The line went dead. Wilson stared at the phone mutely for a moment then slammed it back down.

House could feel his heart hammering painfully against his ribs as he struggled to breathe. He felt panicky and his eyes darted anxiously around the room, an overwhelming sense of danger flooding through him. How in the hell did this maniac know everything he was doing? He felt like he was going to throw up as his stomach turned upside down with fear, and he gagged once again on the tube in his throat. Damn… he felt like his heart was going to beat itself into little pieces... He was completely defenseless…as weak as a kitten and completely immobile while he was hooked up to this damn ventilator. He had to do _something_! Grimacing in pain, he grasped the bedrails and struggled to sit up; there was no freaking way he was going to let himself be an easy target again. Wilson cursed and tried to push him back down but House cuffed his hands away angrily, a look of desperation in his eyes.

House choked again on the tube, struggling to breathe, certain he was not getting enough air. He felt like he was suffocating…someone must have shut off his oxygen supply. Vogler was trying to kill him…he had to get some air! Frantically, he reached up and started pulling the tape off his face, determined to drag the tube out of his throat.

The steady hiss of the ventilator prevented Wilson from recognizing the panic attack for what it was; he thought House was being stubborn, as usual, and trying to extubate himself again. Cursing, Wilson jumped up and grabbed his wrists. "No, no! Greg I thought we were clear on this! The tube stays in until the pulmonologist decides you're ready to breathe on your own." House tried to yank his wrists out of Wilson's grasp. Wilson swore loudly and pushed him back down on the bed. House grunted in pain and struggled fiercely; "Greg…stop being an ass…I don't want to hurt you!" Wilson was having a hard time holding him down. Foreman moved in to help and the two were able to pin House's arms at his sides to stop him from pulling out the breathing tube. A frantic House fought desperately, completely convinced that he was suffocating; Wilson and Foreman clung grimly to his wrists, horrified at the force it required to hold him in place. They listened to the monitor as his heart rate skyrocketed. "Goddamn it Greg!" Wilson yelled. "Chase…Restraints!" Chase was already running from the room. Cameron didn't move, her mouth open in shock as she watched the mêlée taking place before her.

Chase returned in seconds, the restraint straps in his hands. He handed one to Cameron, and rushed to the left side of House's bed. Cameron hesitated a moment, then clenched her teeth and ran to the other side.

House stared up at them, the expression in his eyes panicked and frenzied. He grunted desperately around the tube and shook his head from side to side. Why were they trying to hurt him? Why wouldn't they just leave him the hell alone? He snaked his body back and forth on the bed, cringing at the agony exploding in his leg and the crushing pressure on his chest. He saw Chase and Cameron join the fray and wanted to scream in frustration when he saw them buckling the restraints around his wrists, realizing they were tying him down again and he was completely powerless to stop it. Wilson and Foreman stood back quickly once Cameron and Chase had secured House's wrists to the bedframe. The four of them watched House continue to flail desperately against the straps…Wilson was horrified to see the rate at which his friend's heart was pounding. This was crazy...something was really wrong. Wilson quickly checked the monitor…O2 sats were fine…thank God…he clapped one hand to his forehead at the sudden realization that House could be having some kind of anxiety attack …Oh shit… "Push 2 milligrams Ativan, stat!" he yelled. Chase looked at him in surprise as Cameron rushed to fill a syringe, then injected it quickly into House's IV port. It took only a couple of seconds for House to calm down…he stopped struggling and closed his eyes as the sedative took effect, his face finally relaxing as he passed out. Wilson exhaled in relief and looked at Foreman… "Panic attack", he said simply.

Foreman nodded grimly. House lay still, his chest rising and falling once again in time with the ventilator as they listened to his heart rate slowly returning to normal. Wilson sighed and Cameron asked, "Do you want to keep the restraints on?" She kept her voice even but Wilson could tell she was upset.

"Leave them on, for now…" he answered, rubbing a hand exhaustedly on the back of his neck. "I'll stay with him until he wakes up. If he's rational, I'll remove them. The rest of you should clear out. He hates it when anyone's around to see him like this and he's gonna be sore as hell, physically and emotionally…with any luck, the Ativan will prevent him from remembering this whole thing." They all nodded and started shuffling quietly out of the room.

Foreman stopped at the door, turning back to speak to Wilson. "Something's here is not right…" he started to say.

Wilson nodded, apparently thinking the same way. "I think I know what you mean", he interrupted. "House has been under a lot of stress lately, but he's the last person I would ever expect to have a panic attack."

Foreman looked concerned. "I'd like to run a tox screen, just to see if he's got something in his system that might have provoked it." His mouth was pulled back into a grim line.

Wilson closed his eyes, hoping fervently that Foreman was mistaken. "Take the samples you need and get them down to the lab" he said. Foreman nodded. "I hope to hell you're wrong about this."

X

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X

Cuddy sat rigid behind her desk, listening with disbelief as Foreman explained the results of House's tox screen. Wilson stood with his back to the wall, his hands stuffed into his pockets, a scowl on his face; Thompson was present also, sitting quietly in a chair, jotting down details in his notebook as Foreman spoke.

"Definitely insulin poisoning; someone slipped it to him…made him hypoglycemic…that's what caused the tachycardia, irrational behaviour and the subsequent anxiety attack." Thompson looked up from his notebook, his eyes questioning. Foreman simplified, "Insulin is naturally occurring, you produce it in your pancreas… it regulates the amount of sugar in your blood…diabetics take insulin because their bodies can't control their blood sugar on their own." Foreman glanced at Wilson grimly, then back at the policeman. "Someone gave Dr. House enough of a dose to cause most of the standard symptoms of hypoglycemia...I mean low blood sugar …irregular heartbeat, elevated pulse, sweating, tremors and anxiety." Thompson scowled and made a few more notes as Foreman continued. "It's what caused the panic attack…"

"Do you think someone was trying to kill him with the insulin?" Thompson asked pointedly. Cuddy winced as Wilson answered the question. "No way…they didn't give him a high enough dose to be fatal…" Wilson grimaced, fully realizing that whoever it was certainly could have killed House had they wanted to. "…they gave him enough to make him irrational, aggressive and anxious. All it took was that phone call to send him into a full blown panic attack."

Thompson's scowl deepened. "Do we know how the insulin got into Dr. House's system?"

Foreman answered this one. "We're pretty sure that it was introduced through the IV line. It would be the easiest way to do it and we have people replenishing his fluids and IV meds all the time. We ran some tests on the empty fluid bags to see if there were any insulin traces leftover...there was." He didn't like the idea that one of the hospital employees could be doing this, but it seemed to be the only alternative that made sense.

Thompson sighed, closing his notebook and standing up. "We'll need a list of everyone who has had access to Dr. House in the last 24 hours and the hospital phone records for the past forty eight." He looked at Cuddy. "I am also going to limit who can go into that room from now on. I'd appreciate if you could come up with a list of, let's say, five or six people you trust to go in there. We're going to restrict access to only those employees until further notice." Cuddy nodded glumly, upset at the thought that one of her staff had accepted money from Vogler to intentionally hurt House.

Thompson glanced over at Wilson with a concerned look on his face. "How is Dr. House now?"

Wilson frowned, "He's sedated…I wanted to make sure I was there when he woke up. He's still on the ventilator but it looks like we may be able to extubate him tomorrow morning. I'm just hoping that he won't develop pneumonia or any other complications…" The rest of his thought was clear despite being left unsaid. _…or be kidnapped,assaulted, poisoned or otherwise attacked before Vogler is caught_.

No one could think of anything to say.


	12. Chapter 12

Well…this story is getting more and more interesting to write with each chapter! Thanks so much for all your reviews and pleasepleaseplease don't stop! I hope you continue to let me know what you think!

I'm afraid that I will be heading overseas for the next couple of months…I intend to keep updating this story but won't know until I get there whether I will have internet access. If you don't hear from me, don't despair! I'll keep writing regardless and you will have a huge chapter upon my return!

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House grimaced in pain as he felt his upper body being lifted into a semi-sitting position as the head of the bed slowly rose beneath him. Wilson watched his friend closely, ready to lift his finger from the remote control, half expecting the battered body in front of him to break; House looked so fragile… the mattress reached its fully upright position and he flinched again, swaying slightly as the motion stopped.

Clutching a pillow to his aching ribs, House closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness passed. It was late morning and he was in a much better frame of mind now that his blood sugar levels had been stabilized. He was still annoyed with everyone, Wilson in particular, about being overpowered, immobilized and sedated, but he had to admit that it was his first good night's sleep since the leap from the ambulance. Even the pain in his leg had started to ease, if ever so slightly. The events of the previous day were still pretty sketchy in his mind but House vividly recalled the terror-filled moments when he struggled to breathe and the feeling of helplessness as he was forcefully restrained. He shook his head, trying to clear the disturbing images away. The knowledge that someone had poisoned him with insulin, although frightening to be sure, was a bit of a relief. It explained what had happened…he wasn't going crazy after all.

Cuddy, Cameron, Foreman and Chase were crammed into the corner of his hospital room, waiting expectantly as the pulmonologist rechecked his vitals. House opened his eyes as Wilson laid a hand on his shoulder. "You okay…?" he asked, a look of concern in his eyes. "We don't have to do this now, you know…" House nodded fervently, causing himself to gag uncomfortably on the tube. Take the goddamned thing out. He was looking forward to finally being extubated yet also felt anxious at the prospect. What if he still couldn't breathe on his own? The real possibility of being left gasping for air like a fish out of water, his lungs screaming for oxygen, caused his stomach to twist in concern. Aside from the acute discomfort he knew it would cause, which was worrying in its own right, the thought of Wilson, Cuddy and his minions being here should it happen was appalling. He knew they wanted to be here to help if he went into respiratory distress… he knew they would be the ones to force the breathing tube painfully back down his throat …he would gag and choke, struggling desperately to breathe… He cringed inwardly at the picture in his mind. House had made it perfectly clear that he wanted them all to get lost but they had annoyingly refused to leave. They just looked at him stupidly, acting as if they couldn't understand the meaning behind his strangled grunts, rude gestures and threatening glares. Damn them all. House knew that he was in no shape to force them out, and they knew it too…

The pulmonologist finished listening to his chest and tucked his stethoscope back into his pocket. "You're sounding much better, Dr. House", he said. "I think it's about time we got you breathing on your own." He looked over at Wilson. "Hold his shoulders, would you James?" Wilson nodded and grasped House firmly by the shoulders. The pulmonologist pulled a strip of tape off House's face and he grimaced. Ouch… shit. House glared up, an annoyed look in his eyes. "Would you prefer I leave it in?" the pulmonologist threatened, an amused smirk on his face…he pulled off the last piece of tape and House grumbled something that, had he actually been able to talk, would no doubt have been obnoxious.

Don't be such a baby", Wilson admonished him. "It's only tape…Jeez…" Wilson was smiling as well. House scowled around the tube…What the hell was so funny? He glanced uncomfortably over to his audience in the corner. Cameron caught his eye and smiled encouragingly. He quickly turned away. Goddamn it…why did they all have to be here? It's not like they've never seen anyone extubated before.

"Okay, Dr. House, I'm going to pull this thing out fast. Try to cough as it comes up." House nodded nervously and felt Wilson's grip on his shoulders tighten. He could feel every eye in the room staring at him; he felt the tube being dragged painfully out of his throat and he cringed, retching. Argh…shit. He tried to cough but felt himself gagging and choking, tears coming to his eyes. He managed one feeble cough as the tube finally cleared his mouth, then leaned forward and retched again, feeling like he was going to throw up. His pulse was racing as he tentatively took a shallow breath on his own…then another, deeper this time. His chest hurt but it was good to feel his lungs expand…he closed his eyes briefly in relief…he was breathing…thank God. He sucked in another lungful of air and looked up at Wilson and grinned despite himself. Wilson smiled, released his shoulders and stood upright, watching House carefully. There was an audible sigh around the small room as everyone started breathing again.

The pulmonologist was pressing his stethoscope into House's back, trying to avoid the worst of his nasty skin abrasions. He listened to House's chest for several seconds, then stood up with a smile on his face. "Great…that's really good", he said. "…Even sounds on both sides and there doesn't appear to be any accumulation of fluids."

House coughed and tried unsuccessfully to find his voice, managing only a harsh rumbling sound. He coughed once more, wincing at the pain in his throat and tried again. "…Good…" his voice was weak and gruff but audible. He looked over at the gaggle of onlookers, and glared in their direction, trying not to show how relieved he felt. "Get…out", he tried to sound threatening but the words came out in a guttural wheeze. No one moved. What were they, idiots? He coughed, angrily this time, forcing the vocal chords to function. "I said…_get out_." The voice was a little stronger and he rolled his eyes in frustration when no one moved. He looked over at Wilson, who was by this time, grinning from ear to ear. House scowled at him, "What?" he rasped.

Wilson's grin widened. "I'm waiting to see you try to throw us all out…" House rolled his eyes again and laid back exasperatedly down on his pillow with eyes closed, savoring the feeling of his lungs functioning on their own.

"You'll pay for this…." he rasped exhaustedly. He opened his eyes to glare at Cuddy and his staff. "All of you…" Chase glanced worriedly at Foreman who rolled his eyes in disbelief, shaking his head. Cameron stared back with a sickeningly sweet smile smeared on her face...Shit…at least Chase was still scared of him. He looked around the room, and shifted his body sideways on the bed "Where's my cane?" He coughed again, jamming his eyes shut at the sudden flare of pain in his leg.

He felt someone moving on his left side and opened his eyes in time to see Wilson taking a syringe from Cuddy and injecting its contents into his IV port. House looked at his friend suspiciously. "What's that?" he grumbled. Wilson had a guilty look in his eyes. House didn't like that look.

"Oh…um…just something for your pain…" House glared at him accusingly. "Okay, okay", Wilson relented. "Just something to dissuade you from trying to get out of bed just yet." Cuddy smiled, a conspiratorial expression on her face. House scowled…no way…

"No…goddamn it, James…" House recognized the floating sensation of some kind of a sedative taking hold. "I don't…don't…want……" His tongue felt heavy and he couldn't force the words out…shit. He would get them for this… He felt himself drifting, unable to keep his eyes open. He saw Cuddy smile at him and felt her hand on his forehead as he fell asleep.

Cuddy stroked House's forehead for several seconds as the sedative took full effect. She looked up at Wilson. "You know we had to do it, right?" Wilson nodded as did the pulmonologist who was standing behind him. "He would have insisted on getting up right away", Cuddy continued. "You know it's too soon for that."

Wilson nodded again. Cameron, Chase and Foreman filed out of the room, each trying to reassure him, agreeing with Cuddy that House shouldn't be out of bed yet. Wilson knew they were right, but he felt like he was continually betraying his best friend. The pulmonologist clapped a hand on his shoulder. "They're right James", he said. "He should be fine…leave him in that semi-sitting position to keep his lungs clear." He smiled sympathetically. "I'm glad he won't be blaming me for all this though…something tells me this man can hold a grudge."

Wilson smiled grimly. "Oh yeah…he'll find some way to get me back for sure…"

X

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X

Wilson was dozing in the chair beside House's bed when he was roused by Sergeant Thompson shuffling quietly into the room. The large policeman looked tired; Wilson knew that he was stubbornly refusing to leave the hospital, even when he was off-duty. He still blamed himself for letting Vogler get to House. "I hear that he can breathe on his own now…" Thompson scanned the sleeping form of House. "Is that true…is he okay?"

"He's off the ventilator and doing well…" Wilson answered. He examined the young man with a concerned look on his face. "He's sleeping…which is what you should be doing, Sergeant." Thompson glanced at Wilson in surprise. "Don't play the tough guy with me", Wilson continued. "You look like crap…go home to bed…that's a medical opinion."

Thompson had been about to object but closed his mouth and smiled tiredly. "I guess you're right doc", he said. "…but I can't help but feel like I should be here in case he's attacked again."

Wilson nodded sympathetically, fixing a serious look n his face. "Well, there's a big couch in my office…go use it." He held up his hand as Thompson started to protest. "You saw me sedate my best friend against his will because I knew he needed to sleep", Wilson said, a threatening note in his voice. "Don't make me come after you too."

Thompson eyed him for a moment, then nodded. "Okay, okay…I'll sack out on your couch for a bit." He turned and headed for the door. "Wake me up if anything happens."

Wilson smiled…at least someone listened to his threats without calling his bluff. He wasn't sure how he could possibly sedate the huge policeman if he had refused. He looked at House again, it was early evening and the sedative would be wearing off soon. Wilson sighed. There would be hell to pay when House woke up.

Thompson closed the door to House's room and spoke briefly to his colleague sitting in the hallway. "I'm going to try to catch a snooze in Dr. Wilson's office", he said. "Page me if anything's going on."

"Okay…I'll contact you right away if I see anything weird." The young constable grinned up at him. "Get some rest, Sarge…you really do look like shit." Thompson rolled his eyes and walked away...that was twice in less than five minutes he'd been told he looked like crap…guess he did need to get some sleep.

Thompson hadn't noticed the young man standing in the doorway to an adjacent room as he spoke to the guard outside House's door. The kid was probably no more than nineteen years old, and tried not to make it obvious that he was eavesdropping on the two policemen as he stuffed used linens into a laundry hamper. As soon as Thompson was out of sight, the teen rolled his hamper hurriedly down the hallway and around the corner. After making sure that no one was around, he pulled out his cell phone and pressed the speed dial.

He paused for a moment, waiting for the call to be answered. "What?" The voice on the other end was cold and dangerous.

The teenager stuttered nervously. "Y..y..yes sir… You told me to call if anything changed….the big cop just left…there's only one outside the room right now…and only Dr. Wilson's still inside." He held his breath, hoping the man on the other end would be pleased.

"Good", said the voice on the phone. "Tell me, did you see the big cop leave the hospital?

"N..n..no sir. He said he was going to Dr. Wilson's office, to sleep for awhile."

The young man could hear the smile in the voice at the other end. "Well done…you know what to do next…call me back when it's done." He hung up and the young man looked around nervously. If he did this right, paying for college wouldn't be a problem anymore…he gulped, trying not to feel guilty. The man had promised that no one would get killed…

The teen carefully stirred the contents of the small package that he had been given into a fresh cup of coffee, pleased to see the white powder disappear completely. He then walked to where the policeman sat his post outside Dr. House's room. "Excuse me officer…" he said politely. "Sergeant Thompson asked me to bring you this coffee." He help the steaming cup towards the uniformed officer.

"It's from Thompson?" the young policeman asked, taking the cup from the teen and studying his hospital ID at the same time. He had seen the kid working on the floor earlier in the week.

"Yup", the teen continued, trying not to sound nervous. "He said it was to make sure that you stayed awake while he was catching up on his sleep..." The young officer smiled and the teenager sighed in relief as he lifted the cup to his lips.

"He would say that…" He took a big gulp of the steaming liquid as the teenager held his breath. "That's a nice cup of coffee…thanks."

The teen just nodded and walked away, trying not to hurry as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.

Vogler smiled savagely toward his goons as he hung up the phone. "Let's go boys…we've just been given a window of opportunity…it's showtime."

X

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Everything was very quiet when House woke up. He looked around the room slowly, relishing the ability to turn his head without the constraints of the breathing tube and savoring the sensation of his lungs expanding and contractng on their own. He swallowed carefully, flinching at the soreness in his throat. Spying Wilson snoozing blissfully unaware in the chair beside the bed, House smirked, picked up a pillow and heaved at his sleeping friend. Wilson howled in alarm as he was jolted awake by the pillow striking him forcefully across the side of the face. He leapt to his feet, his eyes darting around the room in panic. House laughed a bit too hard, and ended up having a coughing fit and Wilson had to consciously stop himself from pounding his friend on the back. "Greg…you idiot…you scared the crap out of me." Wilson picked up the pillow and threw it back at House, who caught it and winced at the pain the motion caused in his ribs.

"Serves you right." House rasped in a weak voice, his face angry. "I think I'm going to have to tie you down and forcibly sedate you for awhile and see how you like it…" Even though Wilson deserved it, House immediately regretted his words when he saw the stricken look on his friend's face.

Wilson's shoulders sagged and his eyes dropped to look at his feet. "I…I…I know you didn't want…I…uh…" He knew how terrifying it was for House to find himself in hospital, completely out of control of what was happening… "I was worried about you… You are such a Goddamned idiot sometimes…"

House's eyebrows jumped upwards in in surprise. "Was that supposed to be an apology?" he rasped. "…Because if it was, it really, really sucked." Wilson glanced up quickly, relieved to see a smile playing at the corner of House's mouth.

House shifted in the bed, trying stretch the muscles in his legs. He grimaced as a surge of pain shot through his right leg. "Hey, are you all right?" Wilson asked.

House looked up, nodding. "Just my damn leg…worse than usual though. I guess jumping from a moving vehicle didn't help it much", he hissed through clenched teeth and looked around the room. "Where's my Vicodin?"

"Damn", Wilson exclaimed. "Sorry Greg, you didn't need it while you were on the Demerol…your prescription is at the nurse's station. I'll go get you a dose and I'll make sure to write new orders so you get it when you need it." He turned quickly and headed for the door. House closed his eyes and laid his head back down, trying to will the pain away while he waited for Wilson to return.

Wilson strode quickly into the hallway, not even glancing at the police officer sitting in the chair outside the door. He walked down the hall and around the corner to the nurse's desk where he opened the tray of compartments, each one holding the meds for a specific patient. He placed two Vicodin capsules into a small plastic cup then jotted new orders about pain meds in House's chart. He smiled at the nurse who was sitting at the desk and picked up the cup containing the Vicodin, waving as he turned and headed back towards House's room. He turned the corner and spied the policeman sitting in the chair at House's door. "Hi Constable…" he said as he neared, frowning slightly when he received no reaction from the officer. Was the man asleep?

Wilson started to get angry…he sure as hell better not be…he was supposed to be protecting his best friend! "Hey!" he said louder, still no movement…what the hell? Wilson blanched as he noticed the spilled remnants from the coffee cup all over the uniformed sleeve of the policeman who sat slumped awkwardly in the chair. Wilson put a hand on the officer's shoulder and tried shaking him to no avail; he gulped and glanced at the closed door of House's room as he quickly pressed the fingers of his right hand against the man's neck. Wilson exhaled slowly with relief when he felt the strong, slow pulse under his fingers. Everything was very quiet…Wilson glanced worriedly down the hallway. He pushed the door open and was relieved to see House laying in the bed, alone in the room, his eyes closed. Wilson glanced quickly back into the hallway expecting any moment to hear the sound of the stairwell door opening and heavy footsteps coming towards him. Shit…

He rushed into the room to House's bedside, grabbing House's arm. "Wake up…Greg…wake up for God's sake!"

House grimaced and yanked his arm out of Wilson's grasp; opening his eyes, he was about to say something nasty, but closed his mouth abruptly when he saw the panicked expression on Wilson's face. "What's going on?" he rasped.

Wilson was trying to drag him out of the bed. "Come on Greg…we've got to get the hell out of here!" He jammed his shoulder under House's right arm.

House groaned in pain as Wilson forcefully pulled him towards the side of the bed. "I can't…" he hissed, his right leg screaming in protest. "…my leg…"

"Get your goddamned ass out of bed right now!" House blinked at him…what the hell was his problem? "Come on Greg…we have to move!" Wilson dragged him to the edge of the bed; "Sorry Greg…no choice." House gasped as Wilson shoved his legs over the side of the mattress. House screamed as the pain exploded in his thigh, and tried to push Wilson away. "Listen to me Greg…" Wilson grabbed House's wrists and held tight as he locked his eyes on House's angry face. "Greg, stop being an idiot! We've got to go…Vogler's coming…"

House stopped struggling and looked quickly into Wilson's terrified face. "What…?" His heartrate skyrocketed along with the accompanying increase in the audible beeps coming from his monitor.

Wilson's face was as white as his lab coat. "No time to explain….just move…_NOW_!" he roared.

Ignoring the excruciating pain in his leg, House stood upright, leaning heavily on Wilson's shoulder. His head reeled as they started to shuffle towards the door; damn, the IV in House's arm stopped their progress. House yanked the tube out, causing blood to cascade down his forearm. He looked around desperately. "Where's my cane?" he hissed.

Wilson tried to drag him to the door. "No time…Greg, come on!"

House stood rigid. "I need the cane…"

Wilson heard the desperation in his friend's voice. Goddamn it! He placed House's hand on the side of the doorframe. "Don't you dare fall down!" he growled. He rushed to the closet and hurriedly pulled House's cane out from the back. House looked at him gratefully as Wilson put the cane into his right hand and pulled his bleeding left arm over his shoulder. "Now let's get the hell out of here!"

Wilson kicked the door open and half dragged his friend into the hallway. The policeman still sat slumped over, unconscious in his chair. House was wheezing badly, struggling to breathe with the pressure on his damaged ribs from Wilson's shoulder. They headed towards the nursing station, but stopped halfway to the corner when they heard the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the hall from that direction. Damn…House was trying to focus, his head reeling with the pain and shock of being on his feet again after so long in bed. Hanging tightly to the cane, he retched and tried to stop from throwing up. Wilson gritted his teeth and heaved his friend desperately back in the other direction. The footsteps were nearing the corner and Wilson's eyes were panicked as they darted down the hall, coming to rest on the door to the north stairwell. No choice…he dragged House through the door and dropped him into a sitting position on the concrete stairs. House grimaced and hugged his leg, trying not to cry out as he watched Wilson try to lock the door. He cursed when he realized that the push bar was on the other side; even jamming the cane into the hasp wouldn't prevent it from being opened. He leaned down and pulled House back into a standing position… "Come on Greg…we've got to go up or down...you pick!"

House gasped, looking at the stairs like he was staring at Mount Everest. "I can't go up there…" he protested, wheezing loudly. "Let's go down…"

Suddenly the door behind Wilson flew open, smashing him hard in the back and knocking him forward against the injured House. House cried out in agony as he stumbled and the two men fell, tumbling painfully down a flight of the steps, their limbs tangled together. House heard the sickening sound of Wilson's head striking the concrete as they finally came to a stop and he felt his friend's body go limp beside him. He untangled himself and leaned over his friend's still form. "Wilson?" he rasped… no answer. House's breathing was ragged as he pressed his fingers against his friend's neck. He felt a pulse…thank god…

"I told you I would be seeing you again soon, didn't I Greg?" House closed his eyes briefly when he heard the sneering laugh behind Vogler's voice. He opened them again to see Vogler and two of his goons standing above him in the stairwell. "Don't worry about Dr. Wilson….you know what they say…" Vogler smiled evilly and House felt his stomach lurch. "…two's company and three's a crowd." House saw the pistol in Vogler's hand. "Now get up…we're leaving…"

House didn't move. "Let me call someone to come get him…" he rasped, looking at Wilson. "He could have a bleed in his brain…"

Vogler hesitated ever so slightly, grinning widely, then the smile faded and was replaced by a nasty, dangerous look. "I said get up…_now_…" House gulped as the barrel of the pistol was even with his chest, then moved slightly, coming to rest pointed directly at Wilson's head. "…or else I guarantee you, _he will have a bleed in his brain_." House blanched and struggled to get to his feet.

X

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X

His head was throbbing terribly as Wilson came to; someone was shining a light annoyingly in his eyes and he heard voices asking him questions. He suddenly remembered the events in the stairwell and opened his eyes fiercely, sitting up and looking around in desperation. He was in the ER…Oh no…he slapped Foreman's hands away as his eyes darted around the room, coming to rest on Cuddy's face. She was crying… Oh my God…Greg…


	13. Chapter 13

Okay, here goes...I'm having internet issues but I should still be able to post updates from here (I'm in northern Italy, by the way...boy, the Alps sure are beautiful!) Thanks very much as always for your terrific reviews...WOW...I got quite a reaction from the last chapter! I'm going to get a complex if you keep telling me I'm evil...hee, hee, hee...I guess it was a nasty cliffhanger but I can't help it...it's just way too much fun! You folks are great...keep reviewing and I'll keep writing! (Okay, okay...I'm gonna keep writing anyway but I really love receiving your comments!) Pleeeeeeeease don't stop!

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"I said, get up." Vogler's voice was cold and menacing as he pointed his pistol at Wilson's head. House felt his stomach churn violently and willed himself not to throw up as he struggled to rise, fearfully glancing at his unconscious friend. He was relieved to see Wilson's chest rising and falling at a steady, albeit rapid pace... he was still breathing, thank god. Hissing at the searing pain in his leg, he rolled up into a kneeling position, then reached his right hand over to where his cane had landed after the tumble down the stairs. "Leave the cane, you won't be needing it..." Vogler snarled. "Get up..._now_." His command made House's stomach lurch even more. Oh fuck. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to control the panic rising in his throat. Opening them again, he carefully brought his left leg forward until his left foot was flat on the floor and his thigh at right angles to the ground. He moved his weight to the left side and tried to lift himself using the muscles in his good leg, leaning heavily on the thigh with his hands in an attempt to balance the awkward position. His right leg trembled, a new surge of pain protesting the motion; House bit back the sound that tried to push itself out of his mouth...he wasn't going to give Vogler the satisfaction of hearing him moan. He thought for a fleeting moment that he was actually going to be able to make it to his feet; he was just about standing when his head reeled and he staggered, his arms windmilling as he desperately tried to maintain his precarious balance. His weight shifted inexorably to his right side, the leg promptly collapsing underneath him and House fell heavily to the concrete floor. He could not help but cry out at the agony exploding once again in his thigh. Oh shit. He rolled on the floor hugging his damn leg, cursing himself for his weakness.

Vogler laughed nastily, enjoying the spectacle before him immensely. "You are a pitiful excuse for a man, House..." he snorted. "...You can't even stand up by yourself." Vogler motioned to the two hulking goons who stood beside him in the stairwell. "Pick him up...we've got to go." The two men descended to where House lay wretchedly on the floor. They reached down and roughly hauled him up by his armpits. He glanced hopelessly at the cane laying abandoned on the landing beside Wilson's unconscious body. Fuck...not again...he felt so totally useless without it...Goddamn it. House tried to get his left foot on the floor, to take some of the weight off his hanging right leg but the goons moved quickly and started dragging him up the stairs, causing his bad leg to bounce agonizingly over each concrete step as they ascended. House jammed his eyes shut and tried in vain to stifle his pain-filled grunts as he was hauled upwards. He jerked his eyes open in alarm, suddenly confused; they were going up? He had expected to be taken downstairs to some vehicle waiting once again in the underground garage. He hissed as his leg bumped painfully over another step as they passed yet another floor. They were definitely heading all the way up; they were just about at the exit onto the roof of the hospital. Shit...why would they want to take him to the roof? The blood drained from his face as the terrifying possibility that Vogler was going to toss him off the top of the building suddenly jumped into his mind. He shuddered at the thought and started to struggle violently against the two men who were dragging him up the stairs. No fucking way. The goons stopped moving, cursing as they battled to hold him. Vogler turned around scowling, and descended angrily to where House frantically fought against the men holding him. He flinched and went rigid when he felt the cold steel of the gun barrel press into his forehead. "Don't try my patience, Greg..." Vogler snarled. "If I wanted to kill you, I'd do it right here." House flinched again as the gun was withdrawn. He remained immobile, his breath coming in searing, ragged gasps as the goons dragged him the rest of the way up the stairwell. His heart was hammering painfully against his ribs and he held his eyes closed, fighting the urge to vomit. Oh fuck...he was in serious shit here.

House felt a blast of cold air as Vogler pushed open the door and he was dragged onto the deserted roof of the hospital. He opened his eyes and tried to determine where they were going; they headed diagonally across the roof and House cringed as his bare feet were dragged through the freshly fallen snow. It was freezing but at least it hurt less than getting hauled up the concrete stairs. He was clad only in a pair of flannel pyjama pants and a t-shirt that Wilson had thoughtfully provided him two days ago as part of the deal to get House to agree to stop trying to remove his breathing tube. At least it was more than a flimsy hospital gown and a pair of boxer shorts.

They had covered quite a distance across the roof when House was thrown down unexpectedly by the goons, grunting as half his body disappeared into the snow that blanketed the roof. He shivered and tried to sit up, brushing the freezing powder off his face. Vogler stood leering at him, the pistol still in his hands. He grinned wolfishly. "Okay Greg...let's play a game. You have to guess how I've been able to keep showing up in the hospital, despite the police presence..."

House was freezing; he shivered violently and glared silently up at Vogler. He wasn't going to indulge this maniac in a freaking guessing game. He clenched his jaw and looked away. Vogler scowled angrily and kicked House in the side, knocking him back into the snow. House hissed and dragged himself painfully back into a sitting position, glaring fiercely at his tormentor. He was having a hard time catching his breath again. Damn. Vogler snarled menacingly, "Play nice Greg..._I said guess_."

House looked up; he was visibly shaking now. He gritted his teeth and rasped, "I don't know Vogler...but something tells me you're going to let me in on the big secret..."

Vogler's nasty grin returned and he pushed House back into the snow, holding him there with his foot on House's chest. "Well, you see, I never actually left the hospital...except for when that idiot intern fucked up in the ambulance...that made it tricky...I had to get back inside and the police were crawling all over this place...I hadn't planned on coming back here after I grabbed you in the x-ray room..." House looked confused. What did he mean...hadn't left the hospital? Vogler smiled and made amotion towards one of his goons who then reached down and grasped an iron ring that was attached to a panel on the roof. He lifted it and a large trap door opened, revealing the top of a ladder that descended inside the building. House looked around quickly, trying to orient himself as to over which part of PPTH they were now situated. The cold made it hard to concentrate...his eyes opened wider when he suddenly realized that they must be atop the oldest wing of the hospital, the old psyche ward. It was to be gutted and renovated and was closed to all personnel after having been declared as dangerous to worker and patient safety. Something about asbestos...

Vogler's smile widened as House's shivering became more and more violent. House clenched his chattering teeth and scowled. "W...w...what now?" he rasped. "We going inside?"

Vogler nodded and the man by the trap door disappeared down the ladder. The other goon walked to where House sat and grasped him roughly by the collar of his t-shirt, a threatening sneer on his face. House grimaced but didn't resist as the man dragged him towards the opening in the roof. Vogler looked down at him when they reached the opening. "So Greg, you gonna go down the ladder like a good boy or are we going to have to throw you?"

House looked down the opening into the darkness beyond. He couldn't tell how far it was to the floor and he gulped knowing the chance of him being able to climb down a ladder without falling on his ass was pretty much nil. Vogler nodded and the goon spun House around in the snow. House clung to the top of the ladder desperately as the man shoved him bodily through the opening feet first. His hands were numb and he only barely managed to hang on when he finally found one of the rungs of the ladder with his left foot. He paused a moment, his chest heaving as he tried to suck in gulps of air, his aching ribs protesting every breath. Vogler took a step towards him, a threatening look on his face. House looked down and, hanging on with his hands as tight as he was able, tried to hop his left foot down to the next rung. His foot slipped off the ladder and instinctively he jammed his right foot down on the rung, trying to stop the fall. He closed his eyes and cried out as his leg felt like it was being torn apart; his frozen hands were slipping. Unable to hold on any longer, he fell.

House hit the ground heavily, the impact sending a shockwave through his already battered and broken ribs. All the air was crushed out of his lungs and for several agonizing seconds, he was unable to draw a breath; no sound emerged as he lay mouth agape, trying frantically to breathe. House started to panic, sure he was going into respiratory arrest. His chest heaved and suddenly he managed a gulp of air. Gasping audibly, he was finally able to expand his chest and suck in some oxygen. He lay where he had fallen for a moment, breathing in rapid, shallow gasps, grateful that his lungs were still working; the respite was short-lived. As the panic of not being able to breathe passed, he instantly became aware of the excruciating pain that was his right leg. House screamed and hugged his thigh as he rolled back and forth on the dusty floor, the agony surging from his hip to his knee then back again. The pain was worse than any he could remember since the time immediately following the infarction. House lost all sense of time and place, writhing on the ground, completely engulfed in the pain...Fuck...he tried to focus on anything other than the pain...tried to place his mind somewhere else...anywhere else.

Vogler looked down at him and scowled. "Greg! Look at me..." House was oblivious to him, his eyes clenched shut...the pain thankfully started to ease somewhat, still terrible but becoming more bearable. His screams subsided, replaced by a series of moans as he continued to rock back and forth, still holding his thigh. "Damn you House", Vogler snarled. "Pay attention to me!" He reached over and slapped House open-handed across the face. House opened his eyes fiercely and glowered at Vogler, biting his lip to stop the moaning, his mind suddenly remembering where he was...he lay shivering in a decrepit hallway, freezing cold and soaking wet from the snow on the roof, and his leg was now completely useless. Damn. Vogler smirked, then looked over at his two henchmen standing on either side of House, and said, "Pick him up and bring him into the room we prepared." His voice changed slightly. "Be careful with him...his leg. I'll be right back."

House clenched his teeth as the goons reached for him, expecting the agony to worsen as Vogler's men started to drag him again. He blinked in surprise when he realized that they were lifting him gently, one holding him around the shoulders, and the other gingerly picking up his legs. House gasped and closed his eyes as he was carried down the condemned hallway and through a doorway. Opening his eyes once more, he was stunned to see a pristine, well-appointed hospital room; the equipment was state of the art and the room itself appeared to be newly constructed. He blinked again, his mind not comprehending how it was that one moment he had been in a condemned and dilapidated corridor, filled with dust, debris and cobwebs, and the next he was in this whitewashed, antiseptic environment. Vogler's men placed him softly on the crisp white sheets of the hospital bed, taking extra care not to jostle his leg any more than necessary. House could only gape confusedly at them as they stood back against the wall and Vogler entered the room, followed by another man whom House hadn't seen before. The stranger was much shorter than Vogler, probably in his late forties, and he wore a white lab coat and carried an instrument tray, covered by a white towel.

"W..w..what the hell's all this?" House asked bemusedly, his teeth chattering as he lay shivering in his wet clothes.

Vogler didn't answer, smiling an ugly, sickening smile that made House shiver even more. He took the tray from the small man and made a show of placing it on the desk located beside the bed. House could not tell what it carried but the fear in the pit of his stomach churned anew and his shivering became even more pronounced. Vogler looked at him, shaking his head in mock concern. "You're freezing, Greg...we've got to get you out of those wet clothes." He turned to the two goons and snapped his fingers. House's eyes widened as they approached the bed. He tried to push them away but, with his breath coming in ragged gasps and painful spasms still clutching his leg, he couldn't stop them from stripping off his soaking wet t-shirt and pyjama pants. Naked and feeling humiliated, he was stunned when Vogler quickly covered his shivering body with a heavy warm blanket that he took from a heater near the door. "There, that's better, isn't it Greg?" he said, speaking as if he were addressing a child. "Nice and warm." Vogler gently tucked the edges of the blanket underneath the mattress. "Nice and warm..." he repeated.

House just gaped speechlessly at Vogler, his mouth open in shock at the completely unexpected turn of events. He felt the heat from the blanket started penetrating his chilled body and the violent chattering of his teeth gradually subsided. Vogler stood beaming at him from his position beside the bed. House looked at him suspiciously, forcing himself to remain quiet. After several minutes, Vogler finally spoke up, a threatening look in his eye. "Come on, Greg. I'm waiting for you to say 'thank you' for the blanket..."

House rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to retort but never got the chance; Vogler slapped him hard across the face and House flinched and closed his eyes, his head rolling sideways with the blow. Vogler's eyes were furious. "Don't you ever roll your eyes at me again!" he growled. "You are going to learn to be polite with me..." House's eyes opened once again and he regarded Vogler with loathing. "Manners are so important in today's society", Vogler purred, the smile returning to his face. "Don't you think, Greg?"

The small man in the white coat cleared his throat. Vogler beamed at him, motioning for him to approach the bed. He clapped an arm around the small man's shoulders, ushering him closer to House. "Speaking of manners, I seem to have lost mine..." Vogler held out one hand formally. "Greg, let me introduce Dr. Baronov." The stranger smiled thinly; the look in his eyes was cold and flat. "Dr. Baronov...this is Greg House."

"That's _Doctor_ House to you Vogler", House heard the wheezing rasp in his voice and cursed himself for sounding weak. "To you, an all you cronies too."

Vogler's eyes hardened but he ignored House's comment and kept speaking, the smile never leaving his face. "Do you know why I brought you here, Greg?" His hand motioned expansively around the hospital room. "Why I went to all the trouble and expense of building this for you?"

House said nothing, glaring at Vogler and disconcerted by the cold stare of the silent Dr. Baronov. Recognizing the apprehension growing on House's face, Vogler's smile widened and he continued his monologue. "You Greg...you were always a puzzle to me...I was hugely successful at business due in large part to the fact that everyone is afraid of me..I took great pride in my ability to intimidate people." He scowled slightly. "You, on the other hand, were a pain in the ass. Nothing I did...nothing I said, seemed to worry you." House watched his expression change to one of annoyance. "You defied me every step of the way, even after I threatened you...even after I threatened your friends and colleagues." Vogler looked at him with his head cocked to one side. "That was the start of all my problems, you know...once it was clear that I couldn't control you or the hospital, everything fell apart." His voice as becoming more and more angry and House felt his anxiety level rising. Vogler was almost yelling. "It's your fault that my business collapsed and your fault that I'm on the run from the law! _You did that_!" He was mere inches from House's face and House willed himself not to flinch under Vogler's tirade. "So I went underground for awhile...all I could think of was getting some revenge!" House listened mutely, still unsure of where this was going. "I studied you..." Vogler's voice was quieter again, and a nasty smile returned to his face. "I did my research...all I wanted was to find out what you are afraid of." Vogler looked at him slyly. "Every man has his fears you know, Greg."

House felt the panic rising once again...what the hell was Vogler talking about? His eyes darted nervously over to Dr. Baronov; Vogler put a hand on the small man's shoulder. "Dr. Baronov here is a skilled doctor and surgeon, and has agreed to take you on as a patient..." House gulped as he felt his stomach drop...no...oh God... no... Vogler saw the color leaving House's face and couldn't help but grin. "I'm the one making medical decisions for you now, Greg...you no longer have any say in it. Dr. Baronov has some interesting ideas about how to treat your leg." He nodded and the goons suddenly appeared and grabbed House firmly by the arms, pinning him to the bed. House struggled against them, thrashing on the bed, cursing desperately as he felt the restraints being buckled around his wrists. Vogler pulled the towel off the tray and Baronov picked up a syringe, and leaned over towards House, pulling the cap off the hypodermic and depressing the plunger allowing a few drops of fluid to cascade to the floor.

"No..." House's eyes were riveted to the syringe, his arm held immobile by one of the goons, his entire body shaking violently again. "No...please..." He cringed as Baronov tapped his arm then injected the contents of the syringe into one of House's veins. House retched suddenly...his stomach was heaving.

So Vogler really had figured out what he was most afraid of...


	14. Chapter 14

Did I say anything about cutting off a leg! Mwa ha ha ha ha... Okay, so this is getting a little out there but I'm having fun and I'm pleased you all seem to be enjoying it. Thanks as always for the reviews. I was up all night; I just had to keep writing, so here's another chapter for you.

Keep those reviews coming please!

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House cursed and struggled frantically against the restraints securing his wrists to the bed as Dr. Baronov withdrew the syringe and stood back, his eyes watching House's every move. "I vould not thrash around Doctor House.. ." Baronov's voice was gruff, his accent was eastern European. "You vill hurt leg."

House's panicked eyes scanned the man's face, "What did you give me?" he asked in a terrified whisper. Vogler smiled at the fear evident in House's voice.

"Is nothing to vorry about." Baronov said. "Something to help you relax is all...I need you avake for examination."

House gulped; he started to feel a little foggy as the drug took effect. Examination? God no... "It's a leg...and it's mine...don't touch it..." His voice broke slightly on the last word, "...please..."

Ignoring him, Baronov reached over and lifted the blanket, exposing House's right leg. He frowned as he observed the ugly bruising and recent abrasions. He looked disapprovingly towards Vogler. "I told you not to make it vorse..." Vogler just shrugged. Baronov turned back to House and started carefully probing House's thigh with his fingertips. House whimpered and jammed his eyes shut as he felt the cold fingers digging painfully into his damaged leg muscles. Baronov was thorough, covering every millimeter from House's knee to his hip, paying special attention to the scars and deep indentation where the muscle was removed. House exhaled slowly and opened his eyes when he felt Baronov's hands finally leave his leg. Baronov wore a scowl as he looked at Vogler. "Is bad. I vill try a couple things but chance of saving leg is not good."

House looked at him in horror. "It doesn't need saving!" he screamed, his panicked eyes darting from the doctor to the hideously smiling face of Vogler. Goddamn it, this was a nightmare. He yanked his arms against the straps and tried to physically rip the restraints from the bedrails. "Leave me alone!"

"Now Greg", Vogler sounded like a concerned parent speaking to a five year old. "I told you...it's not your decision anymore. Don't let get yourself get so worked up over it." The wolfish smile returned nastily to his face. "Dr. Baronov and I will take care of everything." In spite of the sedative, House felt his heart racing.

Baronov reappeared on House's right side. He held a clip board in one hand and pulled the blanket back down over House's leg with the other. "Now Doctor House", he said, brandishing a pen. "I need to know history of injury. Tell me."

House just stared at him, an expression of fear and loathing on his face. He was breathing in loud ragged gasps as anger was starting to replace the panic. "I'm not telling you shit..."

Vogler strode quickly to the bed and slapped House hard across the face again. "Don't be a smartass Greg; you're in no position. Answer Dr. Baronov's questions.. You do want us to have accurate information to help us decide what to do with that leg of yours, don't you?" He smiled menacingly.

House felt his stomach churning violently and bit back the bile that threatened to come. His terrified eyes returned to Baronov, who stood waiting patiently. "What do you want to know?" House rasped, his mind racing. How the hell was he going to get out of this? His mind was blank...he was utterly trapped. The panic started to rise again.

"Tell me vat happened to leg..." Baronov brandished a pen.

"I...I...had an infarction..." His voice shook and he closed his eyes, wishing he could wake up from this awful nightmare.

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Wilson sat on a bed in the emergency room, his head pounding; the look on his face was one of grim determination. "I can't stay here Lisa, I'll go nuts...I've got to find him." He was shaking, agitated. "Lisa..." Wilson's voice broke. "...he's my best friend. I should've been able to protect him..."

Cuddy bit her lip, unable to stop thinking about what Vogler might be doing to House at this very moment. She couldn't help blaming herself for what happened. If she hadn't coerced Wilson into sedating him after he was extubated, maybe House wouldn't have been here...the stubborn ass would probably have insisted on going home...

She shuddered, recalling the events of the last hour. She had been in her office when the nurse on House's floor had called her in a panic. House's room was empty...there was blood from his IV all over the floor and the policeman outside was unconscious. Cuddy felt like her heart had stopped beating; she paged Thompson right away and the two rushed to House's room, arriving at the same time. Thompson's face was a mask...he checked his officer, relieved to find a pulse, and ordered the frightened nurse to help the unconscious policeman. He was giving commands over his radio as he grimly followed the blood trail, first up the hallway then towards the north stairwell. Cuddy tagged along behind the large man, absolutely terrified at what they would find. Her legs became weak and she almost fell at the sight of Wilson's crumpled body laying at the bottom of the first landing with House's cane laying abandoned beside him. She managed to make it down the stairs and almost fainted with relief when she felt Wilson's strong pulse under her fingertips. Cuddy vaguely remembered Thompson ordering a lock-down of the hospital while she was urgently calling for a gurney and a backboard for Wilson.

Now, as she looked into his worried eyes, Cuddy understood Wilson's need to go looking for his friend, but the anguished man before her was also her patient. He had taken a severe blow to the head. If the estimated duration of his unconsciousness...twenty minutes...was even close to accurate, it indicated a significant impact to his brain.

"James, you have a bad concussion; you need a CT scan and neuro evaluation", her voice made her concern apparent. "...you know you shouldn't be running around. Please..." she motioned towards Foreman, who was standing on the other side of Wilson's bed. "...let Dr. Foreman do his job and leave the police to do their's."

"Well they've done a goddamned shitty job so far..." Wilson growled, noticing too late that Sgt. Thompson was standing in the doorway. The young man winced and looked at his feet uncomfortably, and Wilson wished he could bite back the words. "Sorry Sergeant", he stammered. "I know you're doing your best. I'm the one who told you to go get some sleep...It's just so damn frightening..."

Thompson held up a hand, a frown on his face. "It's okay Doc..." He sounded desolate. "...you're absolutely right. We fucked up..." His eyes widened and he looked quickly at Cuddy. "...Oh, sorry ma'am; please excuse my language." Cuddy waved a hand, dismissing it but Thompson looked back down at his feet, embarrassed. He was relieved to see Constable Ames hurriedly entering the ER bay.

"There you are..." she was out of breath, animated.

"What's going on?" Thompson asked, a hopeful tone in his voice. Something had his usually calm partner rather excited.

"We finally finished going over the footage from the closed-circuit video recordings of all the traffic in and out of each of the hospital entrances". She looked up at Thompson with a grim smile on her face. " Vogler never showed up...not in any of them... He didn't enter the building through any of those doors anytime in the last hour...and he didn't exit with Dr. House through any of them either."

Wilson could see the gears moving in the young man's head. His demeanor changed and he suddenly seemed taller. "Well we've got every possible way in or out under camera surveillance...even the service entrances and the garage..." He stood to his full height, his shoulders squaring. "Then that must mean..." Thompson spoke slowly, his eyebrows rising as the realization dawned. "That means that they never left the hospital...they've got to be here...Vogler is holding Dr. House somewhere in this building." He grinned savagely.

Wilson and Cuddy gaped at him. "Still here?" Cuddy looked bemused. "But that's impossible...where the hell could they be?"


	15. Chapter 15

Wow, I can't believe how busy I've been...no time to write. Sorry to take so long to update this story, and for making this a fairly short chapter to boot! Thanks again to my regular reviewers as well as to those new people who were kind enough to post a review. Your comments are really appreciated! Please don't stop! I'll try to update faster next time...the climax is approaching!

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"No freaking way Doc", Sergeant Thompson regarded Wilson doubtfully as he looked at the oncologist's determined face. Wilson stood his ground with Cuddy, Cameron, Foreman and Chase standing resolutely behind him. "I don't think this is a good idea", Thompson continued. "I know you all want to help but if you come upon Vogler or his men, none of you are prepared to deal with them. They are armed and dangerous; you lot are neither."

Wilson squared his shoulders and set his jaw. "The more people we have searching the hospital, the faster we'll find him." Wilson glanced at the small group assembled behind him. "Either you include us in your search plans or we'll go looking on our own." His eyes were imploring. He looked over at Cuddy for some support.

Cuddy nodded her agreement. "No one knows this building better than us..." The won't-take-no-for-an-answer tone in her voice was intimidating. "Come on, we're wasting time."

Cameron tried to make her voice sound as formidable as Cuddy's. Her eyes were red and swollen and her quavering voice foiled the attempt. "Please, Sergeant...we _have_ to find him... before... before..." She couldn't finish the sentence. Chase awkwardly put a hand on her shoulder, glaring at the policeman. Foreman's look matched that of Chase.

Thompson sighed in exasperation. "Okay, okay, I'll make you all a deal, but I reserve the right to cancel itat any time I decide you are being idiots." He smirked grimly but the warning was clear. "Dr. Cuddy, you can come with me, Dr. Cameron and Dr. Wilson will accompany Constable Johnston, and Doctors Foreman and Chase will go with Constable Ames. A tactical officer will also accompany each of your groups." Thompson gave them a serious look. "You will stay with your officers at all times or else I will have you escorted from this hospital." They all nodded their agreement. "I have three other parties already searching the garage and service areas." Thompson pointed to a map of the hospital. "Each of your groups will take a wing of the building and work their way from the basement, up to the roof. When the suspects are located, you will immediately back off and let the police officers do their jobs." His expression was almost threatening. "Don't make me regret letting you help. I understand that you all care a great deal for Dr. House but I will not hesitate to bar any of you from this building if you try to be heroes." They all nodded again, each glancing at the faces of their colleagues. Foreman snorted, hell it was true...they all really did care about House...what a concept.

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When he finally finished quizzing House about the history of his leg injury, the look on Baronov's face was enough to increase House's already high level of anxiety even more. He wore an expression of thinly veiled anticipation. House could hear his heart pounding in his ears as he fearfully regarded the small man; Baronov's obvious excitement about what he was planning was terrifying. House heard himself pleading with Baronov to leave him and his leg alone. Baronov kept nodding, distracted; it was obvious that he wasn't really listening to anything his unwilling patient was trying to say. House desperately changed tactics and tried to shake the doctor's concentration by hurling insults at him; still no response. Shit...there had to be a way to stop this. Vogler sat silently on the corner of the desk, playing with the medical instruments on the tray, the nasty grin on his face widening as he watched the expression on House's face become more and more frantic.

Ignoring the discomfort it caused, House desperately tried to squeeze his hands through the straps that bound his wrists to the bed, rolling his fists back and forth, slowly stretching the leather. He tried not to look too hopeful as he was finally able to painfully pull the top of his thumb partially through the strap holding his right arm. Just a little more...he bit his lip and pulled harder. It felt like he was about to dislocate his thumb but he didn't stop. Baronov finally finished taking notes and laid the clipboard on the desk beside the seated Vogler. He looked at House, an unreadable expression on his face. "Is no good to keep saying you don't vant treatment, Dr. House", he said. House winced and let out a yelp as Baronov suddenly reached over and pulled his right hand back through the restraint and notched the buckle two holes tighter. "Mr. Vogler has engaged my services to vork on you, so vork on you, I vill." Baronov continued speaking as he moved his hands to House's left wrist and tightened the strap on that side too. "You have no choice inmatter." The doctor smiled thinly. "You could not convince me to stop anyvay...Is good for me to have you, you know...I have been looking for opportunity to test my procedure for some time..." House swallowed hard, trying to slow his ragged breathing. Baronov lifted the blanket once again. "Now I must look at other leg."

House gaped at the small man in confusion as Baronov started to probe the muscles of his left thigh. What the hell? He yanked the leg away from the small man's touch. "There's nothing wrong with that one, you moron..." he managed to growl. Baronov ignored him and roughly grasped House's knee with his left hand, forcing the leg down onto the mattress as he dug his fingers deep into the flesh of House's left leg, his fingertips painfully tracing the outline of each of his quadricep muscles. House cringed and tried to kick Baronov's hand away, yanking his knee out of the small man's grasp and twisting his hips to the right. He hissed as the movement brought with it the inevitable surge of pain in his right leg.

Baronov frowned as he pulled his hands away, an angry look coming over his face. He quickly reached over with his right hand and grabbed the muscles of House's right thigh, digging his fingers in and twisting the flesh. House lurched, cursing at the agony the doctor's vicious grip produced. He jammed his eyes shut and bit back the bile that suddenly jumped into his throat. Oh fuck...let go...please let go... He opened his eyes to see a thin smile on Baronov's face. The man looked completely evil... "You prefer I hurt you?" Baronov's voice was angry. "Lie still and let me look at good leg or it vill be vorse for you."

Opening his eyes, House nodded grimly, his jaw clenched tight. He exhaled slowly as Baronov released the hold on his right leg and once again started probing the muscles of his left thigh; Wincing, House remained immobile for the examination, his frightened eyes watching the small man's hands as they minutely covered his good leg from knee to hip. What the hell was he looking for?

Finally, Baronov stood upright and looked over at Vogler. "Left leg has strong muscle...is good. It may be possible..." His eyes gleamed, the excitement once again returning to his face. Vogler nodded happily and glanced over at House's worried face.

House was almost too afraid to ask. "What...what..." he could barely get the words out. "What may be possible?" He felt sick.

Vogler smiled wolfishly, a nasty look in his eyes. "I told you, Greg...it's not your concern." He was revelling in the feeling of power he had at this moment...House was completely under his control and knew it. "You remember what I said about every man having his own fears?" House remained silent, holding his breath. Vogler stood to his full height, towering over the hospital bed. He moved a hand quickly towards House's face and House flinched, expecting to be slapped again. Vogler's hand froze in mid-air. "I know that you are afraid of me, right now...and I like it, but there is something else that scares the hell out of you, isn't there?" House gulped as Vogler's smile widened even more; he nodded at Baronov. "This guy is going to cut you open...and you have absolutely nothing to say about what he is going to do to you." Vogler was beaming. House closed his eyes briefly, trying to stop himself from throwing up as Vogler continued. "But I'll humor your question; Dr. Baronov, why don't you explain what you're planning to Dr. House?"

House's eyes darted across the room to look at Baronov. The small man leaned forward, enthusiastically. "Vell, Dr. House...is simple idea. You lost muscles in right leg after infarction, yes?" House just stared dumbly at Baronov, completely at a loss as to what the man was thinking. Baronov continued, "I vill put in new muscles, to make leg vork again."

"N...n..new muscles?" House stammered. "You're not making any sense."

The angry look returned to Baronov's face. "Zat is what they said at University when they refused to let me continue my experiments...vould not even let me continue animal experiments." House blanched at the word. Experiments...Oh God... Baronov reached down and ran a hand over House's now-trembling left leg. "This leg is strong. I take muscles from this leg and transplant them into bad leg to make bad leg vork."

Oh my God... House felt as if his stomach dropped right through the mattress. "No...no..no..." He started thrashing on the bed, vainly struggling against the restraints, suddenly realizing what Vogler was going to have this maniac do to him. His voice was high-pitched, desperate. "You can't remove the muscle from my good leg too...you'll destroy it, make it as useless as the other one..." He was pleading. "There was too much nerve damage in my right leg to make any transplant viable...even if such a thing was possible...and it's not."

Baronov scowled angrily. "Alvays, I'm told is not possible...I think is possible, I think it vill vork. Is true, you vill lose much use of left leg, but if muscle survives once transplanted, use of right leg vill be better." He glanced over at Vogler who was enjoying House's obvious terror. "If transplanted muscle does not survive..." Baronov shrugged, "...I have learned something new for next time."

Vogler grabbed House's chin in his huge right hand, forcing House to look at him. "See Greg, I really am trying to help you..." House's face was ghost-white. "What's the worst that could happen?" He smirked. "One useless leg? ...two useless legs? ...what's the difference to someone who is already a cripple?" He grinned malevolently. "If the surgery goes badly, Dr. Baronov can always amputate, as a last resort, of course." Vogler's eyes were gleaming.

No...this couldn't be happening! Oh fuck. They were going to mutilate his good leg; House knew that there was no way in hell that this maniac's idea could work, even if the nerves in his right leg were undamaged. He suddenly realized that there was something worse than losing his bad leg...losing his good one too. They were going to take away his ability to walk. Completely terrified, he cried out and frantically pulled against the restraints; the goons reappeared and pinned House's thrashing body once more to the bed as Baronov roughly inserted an IV into his left arm. He then hung a bag of fluid above House's head and opened the valve to start the flow. The small man smiled nastily down at House. "This vill put you to sleep..." House's scream was muffled as the doctor covered his face with an oxygen mask. His thrashing became weaker as he felt the anaesthetic start to take effect. No...fuck...please... He felt the tears running freely down his face as he vainly fought to stay conscious. The last thing House saw before he passed out was Vogler's maniacal grin and Baronov donning a surgical gown.


	16. Chapter 16

I know, I know...it's about time I got back to work on this. I must say "I'm sorry" to all my trusted readers for leaving you hanging for such a long time. I was overseas and way more busy than I had predicted...way too busy to amuse myself writing this story...and my connection to the internet was non-existent in some locations...but enough of my excuses. It won't happen again! I will update more regularly now that I'm home and back to my normal routine.

So, where did we leave off? Oh yes of course...Vogler and the evil Dr. Baronov have House restrained and helpless and are planning an experimental procedure which will probably end up destroying his good leg as well as his bad one. Oh dear. (I know it's getting a little out there but such fun to write!) Wilson, Cameron, Cuddy, Foreman and Chase have teamed up with their friendly neighborhood police officers to search the hospital for House and his abductors...

Chapter 16

Wilson tried his best not to reveal how frightened he really was as he and Cameron followed the hulking form of Constable Johnston and an even more- hulking police tactical officer through the hallways of their assigned hospital wing. The policemen were frustratingly meticulous in their search technique, carefully scanning every office, patient room, treatment room, surgical bay, bathroom and broom closet for Vogler and the abducted House. Wilson was getting more and more anxious with each floor they fruitlessly searched; this was taking way too long...God only knew what Vogler was doing with House, and the thought of his friend taking any more abuse in his weakened state made Wilson feel sick.

The hospital was very busy; there were almost no empty beds in the entire facility. Nurses, doctors and orderlies were humming about in a buzz of activity, joined in the hallways by the endless comings and goings of visitors, candy stripers and cleaning staff. It seemed impossible that Vogler could have House hidden anywhere inside this building without someone already having stumbled across them. Wilson grimaced in frustration. It was even more frightening to think about what might take place if they did finally find Vogler, his cronies and House; the police were well armed and Wilson really didn't like the thought of his friend being in the middle of a shootout. Hell... Vogler was turning out to be enough of a maniac that he would probably shoot House at the first sight of police...

Cameron looked at Wilson's grim face as they followed the police officers up yet another stairwell. She could tell that he was having serious doubts as to the chances of finding House and her heart ached at his obvious distress. She edged close to him and whispered, "Dr. Wilson, are you okay? ...you don't look too good."

Wilson snorted. "You aren't exactly a picture of loveliness yourself right now, you know." Cameron's eyes had lost their puffiness but it was still pretty apparent that she had been crying; her hair was a tangled mass tied into a loose ponytail and she hadn't had any real sleep in days. Her mouth formed a grim line as she dropped her gaze quickly to the floor. Wilson instantly regretted his words. "Sorry...I'm sorry... I know you didn't mean..." Wilson sighed and slumped against the wall. "I'm worried about him, Allison", he said exhaustedly, and she raised her eyes to look into his. "Actually, I'm scared to death that we won't find him before it's too late..." His voice caught slightly and Cameron put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Me too..." she said softly. "I can't bear to think what could be happening to him...he is so fragile right now..." The image of House whimpering as he slept, unconsciously fighting the breathing tube and the restraints, jumped unbidden into her mind. He had looked so utterly defenseless...so in need of someone to take care of him...it broke her heart to see him like that. She sighed. It had seemed so right, so normal, to stay there beside him, to stroke his forehead, whisper comforting words in his ear and soothe him back into a peaceful sleep. Cameron bit her lip and took a deep breath, willing herself not to start crying again. She prayed it wouldn't be the last time she would feel the warmth of House's skin under her fingertips.

Wilson could see the depth of the worry in her blue eyes...and something else was there too. He put his hands on her shoulders, pulling her around to face him. "I know you still care for him a great deal", he said softly. Cameron's eyes shone as she fought to keep the tears from spilling. "I... I... Wilson struggled to get the words out. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to... I... I mean, I was there and ... I really tried ..." He was having a hard time looking her in the eye. "I'm sorry I couldn't stop Vogler from..." He couldn't finish the sentence.

Cameron reached up and put her hand on Wilson's chin, lifting his face and forcing his eyes to meet hers. "It's not your fault", she said gently. "You can't blame yourself for this...I know how much you care for him too."

It was Wilson's turn to bite his lip. He clenched his jaw and pulled his face away from her hand. "I should've been able to do something Allison", he said grimly. "Instead, I bumped my useless head against a useless step and just laid there like a goddamned, useless..." Cameron gently put her hand over his mouth and prevented him from finishing the thought.

"This is not your fault", she repeated more firmly. "Get that through your head." He nodded glumly and she removed her hand. "You know, if he is in this hospital, we'll never find him this way..." She looked up as Johnston and the tactical officer went through the door to the next floor and out of sight. She looked at Wilson conspiratorially. "Do you think Vogler would really be mad enough to keep him here where any of us could find him?"

Wilson looked at her and recognized the grim determination on her face. "Well, to tell the truth...no...I think we're wasting our time here...that's why I'm so damned frustrated..." The look in her eyes told him that she was obviously thinking of something. "Do you have another idea of where we could look?"

Cameron looked thoughtful. "Not really...but we should be able to figure it out...assuming the police are right and they're still somewhere in the building...where would you go in this hospital if you didn't want to be found?"

Wilson pondered the question as Johnston reappeared at the top of the stairs and made an impatient motion for them to hurry up. They both nodded and started moving again. "If I didn't want to be found..." Wilson racked his brain for an answer. "The whole place is a madhouse lately...there's really no place here where people aren't around all the time..." Cameron nodded. She too was at a loss as to where House could possibly be being held. "Every wing of the building is pretty much at full capacity", Wilson continued. Suddenly his eyes widened and he stopped dead in his tracks. "Every wing..." He glanced up to see that once again, Johnston was out of sight through the door. "Allison, what about 'H' wing...you know...the old psych ward?"

Cameron's mouth opened in surprise. " 'H' wing?" she repeated. "That's been closed for over a year. It's been completely gutted...they're supposed to start renovations in the spring..."

Wilson's mind was racing. "Yeah, it's been locked up tight because apparently it's not safe..." It was the only possibility that seemed even remotely likely. "...so it's completely empty..."

Cameron sounded doubtful. "There's no way to get in there...the doors are chained shut..."

Wilson was convinced. "Vogler would find a way...Come on Allison...it makes sense. It explains how Vogler was able to keep showing up even with the police watching all the doors..." Wilson started to get excited. "It fits..."

Cameron had to admit that what he said made sense. She started to feel a twinge of hope. "Okay then, let's tell the police and get them to start a search..." She started running up the stairs.

Wilson reached out and grabbed her elbow, stopping her in her tracks. "Maybe we should just go and look by ourselves...no police," he said slowly. Cameron's eyes opened wide as she regarded Wilson's anxious face as he continued speaking. "I'm worried what Vogler will do to House if he even smells the police closing in, and if either side starts shooting, Greg could be caught in the crossfire..."

"And what are we going to do if we do find them?" Cameron asked incredulously. "You want me to take out the bad guys with my stethoscope? ...Do you have a black belt in some macho ultimate fighter type of martial arts you haven't told me about?" The look on her face was one of utter disbelief that he could even contemplate such a thing.

Wilson shook his head sheepishly. Of course she was right...but if they managed to get in there quietly and surprise Vogler...maybe they could create a distraction...just maybe...


	17. Chapter 17

Okay, okay, I know I promised to update this more often and I feel really guilty keeping you all waiting so long…sorry about that. No more excuses! Thanks very much to those of you who continued to prod me to keep going and finish this one up. The reviews after the last chapter were amazing!

Chapter 17

Cameron felt her already elevated pulse rate skyrocket as she regarded Wilson's determined face; she could almost see the gears turning in his head as he continued to contemplate a search of the abandoned H Wing, _without the police_. "Have you gone completely insane, Dr. Wilson?" Her voice was high and unnatural. She suddenly felt even more frightened than she had only moments ago.

"Well, if I have gone nuts, don't you think it fits that we should check out the old psych ward?" Wilson tried to grin but it came out more like a grimace; he sounded desperate. "Come on Allison, we should at least go check it out to see if there are any signs that Vogler and his goons are really in there…" Cameron's gaze was now one of almost panicked incredulity. Wilson kept speaking, not allowing her to a moment's pause to protest. " … We'll make up some kind of excuse for leaving Constable Johnston and the other guy, then go and see what we find. That way, the police search for House continues and it won't matter if we're wrong…"

"And what if we're right…then what are we going to do, just the two of us!" Cameron leaned weakly against the wall, one hand hanging grimly onto the stair railing. She felt like she might pass out. Wilson reached out to steady her as she sank down into a seated position on the concrete steps. He started to say something when they were interrupted by the angry shouts of Constable Johnston from above.

"Will you two please stop jabbering and get your butts up here! We are trying to move fast, you know…" he stopped his tirade at the sight of Cameron's shaken expression and Wilson's supportive grip, keeping her from falling down completely. "Is something wrong, Dr. Cameron?" Johnston's voice softened but he sounded suspicious.

Wilson's thoughts raced as the policeman started to descend the stairs. He spoke up quickly, before his young colleague could respond. "She just came over all faint…I think all the stress and lack of sleep is taking a toll on her…" Wilson's face was locked onto Cameron's, an imploring look in his brown eyes. He was begging her… She felt her heart hammering against her ribs but bit back the retort she had been about to make.

Johnston eyed the pair suspiciously; his gut was telling him these two were up to something, but he couldn't deny the sudden ghostly white pallor of Dr. Cameron's skin. Well no, not really white, almost green…she looked like she was about to be seriously ill. "Is he right, Dr. Cameron?" Johnston asked. "Are you sick, or is something else going on?" His eyes ground accusingly into Cameron's and she felt herself swallow nervously.

Cameron glanced up at Wilson, whose eyes were still pleading with hers. She answered without taking her gaze away from his, "I'm sorry Constable…" her voice was tremulous. "…Dr. Wilson is right, I'm not well. I feel like I could pass out. I just don't think I can keep going…" She could barely believe it was her voice; what the hell was she doing?

Wilson tried his best not to look relieved. He turned to look at the disbelieving policeman. "I think I should get her back to my office and let her lie down awhile…" He started to help Cameron to her feet. "Do you think you and that other policeman can finish the search without us?" Wilson prayed the question didn't sound too staged and held his breath as he waited for the answer…

Johnston snorted in annoyance. "Sure Doc, you better take her down…but don't you two dare try anything…" Cameron almost cringed under the accusing look on the young man's face. "You heard Sergeant Thompson…he will have your butts if you do anything stupid…"

"Yeah, okay Constable…" Wilson tried to look innocent as he began to urge Cameron down the stairs. "We wouldn't do anything like that…" He felt Cameron try to turn around and pushed her a little more urgently. "Come on Allison", he whispered in her ear. "Don't stop now…don't worry…we'll be fine…" He didn't know who he was trying to convince, himself or her. He felt his own heart racing…maybe he was completely insane after all.

Johnston continued to eye the two doctors suspiciously as they descended the stairs. Dr. Cameron really did look sick but the experienced policeman was certain there was something else going on. He keyed the radio mike that was hanging from the epaulette of his bulletproof vest. "Sgt. Thompson, this is Johnston…I think we might have a problem…"

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Wilson grimly shook the huge padlock that held the doors to the abandoned H Wing shut. A huge cloud of dust swirled through the air as the old chain rattled against the doorframe. Trying not to breathe, Wilson clamped his eyes shut and spun around, coughing despite himself. Cameron looked on, almost relieved to see the thick layer of dust completely coating the door, its handles and the chain that secured it. There was no way anyone had used this door since it was chained shut. "Well, it was a good idea", she said. "It's pretty apparent though that no one has gone into the place for ages."

Wilson looked momentarily disappointed, and then the determined look returned to his face. "There's more than one entrance to this wing you know…let's check the service doors at the other end. We'll have to go outside" His grim expression stopped Cameron from protesting further. She knew that he was going to check even if she went running to the police, yet she hesitated, truly afraid that they would find the door was in use. Wilson laid a hand on her shoulder. "Come on Allison", he tried to sound confident. "…we can't stop now. What if House really is in there and Vogler is doing who knows what to him? I couldn't live with myself if I didn't at least try."

Cameron nodded, wondering again if she was going crazy. "Okay, okay…but if it looks like the door's been used, I'm getting the police." Wilson started to protest but she persisted. "No way, Dr. Wilson, no way…we know that Vogler and his cronies have guns…there's no way we can go in alone. We'd probably get House into even more trouble, or get him killed." She glared at Wilson a moment, then her gaze turned forlorn. "…if he's not dead already."

Wilson scowled. "Hey, hey, there's no reason to be talking like that. Vogler already had plenty of chances to kill him if that was his goal." He felt the ever present fear churn in his stomach. "I think Vogler wants to terrorize House, and hurt him too, sure…but what would be the fun of killing him?"

Cameron glanced up at him, a grim smile creeping across her face. "That statement should absolutely not make me feel better, but for some insane reason it does…" Her face took on the same determined expression worn by Wilson. "Alright, alright, I'm convinced…let's go." Wilson nodded and the two started running down the hallway towards the main entrance of the hospital.

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The hissing of House's ventilator filled the room as Baronov laid out his surgical instruments on the tray before him. Vogler hovered eagerly in the background, looking for all the world like the proverbial kid in the candy store, with one glaring exception. The expression in his eyes was cruel and frightening. He almost smiled as House twitched suddenly on the bed; part of his mind was still trying to fight the restraints that held him immobile and helpless.

Baronov checked the readouts of House's vitals and grimaced. "Is not good, his breathing…even with ventilator is too fast and shallow. His oxygen level is low." He turned up the amount of oxygen in the mix and checked the placement of the breathing tube in House's throat.

"So what's the problem?" Vogler growled. "He is breathing…just get on with it Doctor! That's what I'm paying you for."

Baronov looked irritated. "If breathing is compromised, he may have respiratory arrest while I am vorking…I vould not be able to complete surgery…"

"GODDAMN MAN, JUST DO IT!" Vogler's glare was dangerous and angry and, looking at the evil expression in his benefactor's eyes, Baronov stuttered nervously and turned quickly back to his patient. This man was truly demented. He draped two crisp white sheets over House's body, exposing only the right leg, for the moment.

"I vill start by removing the damaged muscle from bad leg…" Baronov grabbed the bottle of Betadine from the tray and started swabbing the leg. He muttered under his breath as the dark liquid pooled in the deep indentation left over from House's post-infarction surgery, and he mopped up the excess with a piece of gauze. "If he stops breathing, is not my fault."

Vogler nodded wolfishly and couldn't stop himself from rubbing his hands together gleefully, like that evil kid in the candy store again. The look made Baronov shudder in spite of himself…thank God this man wasn't his enemy…


	18. Chapter 18

Well, it's been a long time coming but here it is...the last chapter. I hope you like it and I apologize for taking so long to get it to you. It's funny, I knew exactly how it was going to end and yet I just couldn't seem to put it on paper. I guess that's called writer's block..Anyway...for some reason this week I sat down and the words just rolled off my keyboard. Weird...A great big thanks to all of you have have hung in there for this one. Please let me know what you think. I appreciate all your reviews! I am thinking of writing another story and could certainly use any advice you may wish to offer.

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Vogler watched with rapt attention as Baronov finished swabbing House's damaged right thigh with the antiseptic, the strong smell of iodine filling the room. He was fascinated with the ugly, thick scar that ran almost the entire length of the upper leg and the deep and uneven hollow where muscle was supposed to be. Part of Vogler's brain understood the pain and anger behind that mangled leg, but at no time did any sentiments like compassion, pity or even mercy enter his mind. On the contrary, he was excited and happy, almost to the point of being manic. The hated Dr. House was finally getting his due ... this was _fun_.

The smaller man in the white coat eyed his employer nervously as he adjusted the surgical mask covering his face. Baronov was finding Vogler's eager behavior disconcerting. He might be rich and powerful, Baronov thought disgustedly, but he was definitely no scientist. Vogler was not at all interested in the enormous medical achievement that Baronov was about to accomplish. This was not going to be an ugly assault on a hated nemesis for revenge's sake...it was going to be beautiful...all his years of research leading to this moment. Baronov hesitated for the briefest of moments, then reached over and selected a scalpel from the tray of gleaming instruments. He leaned forward and, using his left hand, held taut the skin of House's thigh, taking care to avoid the rutted, scarred area. He wanted the cut to be clean...

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Cameron was wishing that she had chosen a more comfortable pair of shoes as she and Wilson sprinted through the entrance lobby of the hospital and towards the main doors. Something without heels would have been a better idea.

"WILSON, CAMERON! STOP RIGHT THERE!

Cameron stifled a yelp as she ran smack into Wilson's back as he came to a sudden halt, stopped cold in his tracks by the booming, angry voice of Sergeant Thompson. They stumbled for a moment, she managing to hold him up as he staggered. Wilson turned around to face the imposing figure of the large policeman as he strode forcefully toward them, a look of clear annoyance...no, make that fury...on his face. Cameron swallowed nervously as she watched the large man approach.

"What in God's name do you two think you're doing!" Thompson came to a halt beside them and grabbed Wilson by the lapel of his lab coat. "You promised that you wouldn't do anything stupid, remember?" He started to drag the protesting Wilson towards the center of the main lobby and away from the exit. Cameron followed meekly, an unexpected memory of getting caught smoking in the girls' washroom in her junior year of high school coming suddenly to mind. She had never been good at getting away with _anything_...

Wilson was sputtering, trying to knock the officer's hand off his collar. "Ow...hey...let go of me!" He finally managed to halt Thompson's forward impulsion and the large policeman turned to face him, raising an accusing finger. Wilson spoke quickly, not allowing the big man to get a word in. "We think we know where they are, Sergeant. We were just going to see if it looked like it was possible before we told you..."

Thompson raised a suspicious eyebrow. "You think you know where he's at, and you two morons decide to go off and check it out without telling me?" He briefly closed his eyes and rolled his head side to side in an attempt to calm down the spasms in the muscles of his neck. Opening his eyes again, Cameron noticed that the muscle in the Thompson's cheek vibrated as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. "I ought to throw you both in a cell for being _idiots_! What did you think you were going to do _by yourselves _if you found them? Strangle them with a blood pressure cuff? ...no wait...maybe you took a minor in hypnosis and could convince the bad guys, _who are armed and dangerous by the way_, to just give up…God… you've been watching way too many Chuck Norris movies…"

Wilson clamped his mouth shut and looked suitably contrite. Cameron decided she should say something...she was a co-conspirator, after all. "Sorry….we're sorry, Sergeant...okay? Dr. Wilson and I were just worried that if we were wrong, your search would be delayed..."

Thompson held up his hand impatiently. "Enough, enough...we're wasting time...so where in the hell have your psychic powers told you he's at?"

"It's not psychic...it's deductive...don't you go being an idiot yourself, Sergeant," Cameron retorted angrily. Thompson looked as surprised as she felt at her sudden outburst. She kept speaking before she lost her nerve. "Come on, we know they're still in the building right? The only place where no one would have found them already is in H Wing...the old psych ward." Thompson looked thoughtful as she continued. "It's been closed for over a year...locked up tight pending renovations, which were postponed after Vogler left and took his money with him." Thompson didn't say anything but Cameron could almost see the gears turning in his head. "...so Vogler would know that it's not in use..." she added helpfully.

Wilson kept his mouth shut but he nodded vigorously. Thompson eyed them for a couple more seconds, the sudden expression of interest on his face betraying his attempt to stay angry at the two doctors before him. "It's completely empty?" He asked finally, his voice sounded hopeful. "Are you sure?"

Wilson found his own voice again. "It was closed over a year ago…no one ever goes in there." He watched the policeman anxiously. "Come on Thompson, where else could they be?"

Thompson hesitated only a moment longer. "Okay, okay. But we're going in my way." He keyed his radio microphone and started issuing instructions.

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Cameron didn't know if she felt more relieved or disappointed when they found the outer doors of H Wing chained shut just as tight as the inner doors had been. There was no way that anyone had used either entrance in a very long time. She sighed and put her hand on Wilson's shoulder, the dejected look on his face making her heart break. Thompson, however, didn't look disappointed at all; instead, he had a strange, angry, excited, and thoughtful look on his face…Cameron looked at him curiously; she had never thought it possible for that combination of expressions to inhabit one face at the same time. The large policeman was eying the building, his gaze traveling upwards as he scanned the dirty windows, finally coming to rest on the edge of the roof of the oldest part of the hospital. His expression became even more complex, if that is possible, and Cameron felt her hopes rise as the policeman's eyes widened in what looked to be the sudden and unmistakable dawning of understanding…Thompson was sure he had found what he was looking for.

Wilson had also noticed the sudden changed in the policeman's demeanor… he couldn't help but follow the large man's gaze towards the roof of the old psych ward…then he, too, saw what Thompson was looking at. All of the windows on the upper floor were opaque and filthy…all except one…it was still dirty, sure but, he could just make out the glow of a light shining inside the room…someone was up there. Cameron had seen it too… Thompson's face became set in an angry, determined expression. "That son of a bitch…" The young man's voice was cold. He keyed the microphone on his radio. "Ames, Johnston…Thompson here. Assemble SWAT 1 and SWAT 2 in the lobby…now. I'll meet you there in two minutes." Thompson turned to face Wilson. "That stairwell where you last saw Dr. House…it leads to the roof doesn't it?" Wilson's eyes widened. Of course…he nodded grimly.

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Cuddy felt as if she was about to faint as she accompanied Wilson and House's three employees through the double doors into "H" Wing, the chain that had been securing the door now hanging severed from one of the crash bars. Thompson had split his two SWAT teams into three offensive units, units 1 and 2 gaining access through the chained entrances to the old psych ward while the third would enter via the trap door they had found on the roof as soon as the others were ready to storm the top floor. The doctors had been told to stay in the lobby and wait for the all clear, but Wilson had refused to wait after the police moved out. "What if he gets shot when the police storm the room?" he had asked. "What if he's already hurt and is dying? Someone has to be there to take care of him when they find him…" Cuddy had demanded that they stay put, but Wilson, Cameron, Chase and Foreman would not be dissuaded. "We'll give the police a three minute head start, and then we follow." Wilson looked both terrified and determined at the same time. Foreman hesitated momentarily then nodded his agreement, mirrored by Chase and Cameron.

Finally, despite the overwhelming feeling that this was a disaster in the making, Cuddy nodded as well. "Okay, but for God's sake, let's stick together…"

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Baronov almost smiled as he inspected his handiwork. The incision was beautiful, straight and clean with minimal bleeding. He continued his work until the damaged muscles that remained in House's right thigh were visible. Carefully, he opened the skin even more, until he could see where the muscle attached to the ligaments above and below. He grimaced at the sight of the ugly scar on the surface of the muscle itself and the deep furrow where a muscle should have been. It was amazing that House had been able to use this leg at all.

Vogler peered over the small surgeon's shoulder in fascination as Baronov continued his dissection of House's damaged thigh. The large man's stomach flip-flopped unexpectedly and he looked away, angry at himself for this sudden weakness. He reached up and pulled the surgical mask off his face momentarily, taking a couple of large gulps of air as he willed his nausea to subside.

One of the goons suddenly rushed into the room, a pistol in his hand. "MASK!" Baronov roared… "You are not sterile!" He turned away from his patient, the scalpel still in his hand. The goon shuddered slightly at the sight of blood on the blade but held his ground.

"The police are here", he shouted. Vogler's jaw dropped in shock. "They're coming in the doors downstairs and are working their way up the stairwells."

Vogler closed his mouth quickly, his mind refusing to accept that they had figured out where he was hiding. The second goon ran into the room; he too had seen the police. Vogler stood to his full height, ripping the surgical mask completely off his face and screamed at his employees. "What the hell are you doing just standing here?" Vogler shoved the goon. "Go, take care of the police…that's what I pay you for!"

The two thugs looked at Vogler in disbelief then at one another. "There's gotta be a whole fucking SWAT team coming up the stairs!" the first goon yelled. "If you think you're paying us enough to take on a SWAT team, you're crazy!" Vogler started to curse at the two men but they took off running, ignoring his commands. "We're outta here", one yelled as they headed for the ladder to the roof.

Baronov looked down at House with a look of fury and panic on his face. No…this can't be happening now…he was finally going to show everyone… He hesitated, unsure of what to do, then dropped the scalpel and started pulling his own mask off. "What are you doing?" Vogler roared and Baronov felt the cold steel of a gun barrel press into his neck. "Finish the fucking job Baronov!" Vogler's voice sounded maniacal.

Baronov stood rooted to the spot and reached up to push Vogler's pistol away from his head. "Do not be a fool, Mr. Vogler", the surgeon eyed the larger man reproachfully. "Is no vay I could complete surgery now…if police are coming, ve must leave…"

Vogler slapped Baronov's hand down and raised his gun again, this time pointing it at the smaller man's face. "I said, finish the job…" Baronov gulped as he looked into Vogler's cold eyes. The look on his face was terrifying…pure evil. Baronov had no doubt that Vogler would kill him if he tried to leave. The smaller man turned back around to where House lay unconscious on the operating table, his right leg grotesquely opened, the muscle now completely exposed. Not bothering to replace his surgical mask, Baronov reached over with trembling fingers and picked up a clean scalpel from the tray. This was madness! He had to get out! The small man hesitated a moment, trying to think of some way to distract Vogler…one stab, maybe two… if he could force Vogler to drop the gun maybe he could make his escape before the police arrived.

There was a loud crash from somewhere out in the hallway, then suddenly the air was filed with the shouts of men and the crack of gunshots. The goons had evidently run into the SWAT team coming in from the roof. Vogler glanced quickly at the door and Baronov spun around, slashing desperately at Vogler's gun hand with the scalpel. Vogler roared, shoving the smaller man away from him and leveling his pistol at Baronov as the surgeon fell on top of the prone House. Vogler paused a moment, enjoying the look of terror in the small doctor's eyes. The big man smiled. "It would have been fun, you know…" Vogler gazed at the unconcious form of House, a look of regret now in his eyes. "I would have loved to see him reduced to a cripple…destroyed like I was destroyed. Now I'll just have to be satisfied with killing him outright." He steadied the pistol, still aimed directly at Baronov's head. "But you first, I think…" Baronov raised his hands, cringing, knowing full well what was about to happen.

Vogler began to close his finger around the trigger when the command was screamed from the door. "POLICE, POLICE…DROP YOUR WEAPON!" Vogler hesitated, a glance revealing that two police officers had entered the room and were leveling their automatic machine guns at him. Vogler roared in fury and threw himself to the ground, blindly squeezing the trigger of the pistol as he tried to roll behind the operating table. An explosion of gunshots filled the room and Vogler screamed as he felt a high powered bullet rip into his leg. He screamed again as one of the SWAT officers suddenly, somehow appeared above him and kicked the pistol out of his hand. Vogler thrashed wildly as the policeman held him forcefully on the ground, the second officer assisting his colleague as several more SWAT members rushed into the room. Vogler moaned in agony, his bleeding leg twisting as the officers wrestled him onto his stomach, fear now churning in his gut as he felt the cold steel of the handcuffs crushing into his wrists.

Wilson, Cuddy, Cameron, Foreman and Chase stopped abruptly on the stairwell when they heard the cacophony of shouts and gunshots fill the hallway above them. "Oh, God…no…" Wilson's head spun….they were too late…. He started to run.

Cuddy grabbed his arm. Her eyes were wide with fear. "James…I can't let you go up there…" there was a momentary pause in the shooting, then another explosion of gunfire filled the air. Wilson tried to wrestle out of Cuddy's grasp but found that Foreman and Chase were also restricting his forward progress, Chase hanging on to his collar and Foreman holding his other arm. He fought against them…

Foreman was speaking forcefully, each word hitting Wilson like a slap in the face. "Don't be an idiot…DR. WILSON… if we go up there, we'll all get shot!" Real fear was evident on his face too and he grimly hung onto the oncologist, refusing to let go.

Cameron stood rooted to the spot, paralyzed in fear as she listened to the yelling and gunfire taking place above them. No…please, no….

Suddenly, an eerie silence was all that remained of the bedlam… no more shooting… no more yelling. The five doctors in the stairwell stopped all movement and listened… listened… listened… no more shots. Wilson could hear his heart pounding in his ears. He wrenched out of the grip holding him and sprinted up the remaining steps. Cameron blinked as if coming out of a trance, and raced up after him, her momentary paralysis completely disappearing. Cuddy, Foreman and Chase looked at each other, and then they too followed, cautiously.

There were police everywhere and Wilson was halted in his tracks by a large officer pointing a machine gun as he raced into the hallway. Wilson raised his hands and was almost knocked over by Cameron running into him as she too sprinted out of the stairwell. By the time the others had joined them, they were surrounded by three officers all eyeing them suspiciously as Wilson demanded to see Sergeant Thompson. They could plainly see the shape of two bodies lying in the dust at the far end of the hallway…Cuddy found herself praying that House wasn't one of them.

Suddenly, the booming voice of Sergeant Thompson filled the hallway. "…LET THEM THROUGH! … I SAID LET THEM THROUGH! WE NEED A DOCTOR NOW!" Wilson felt his heart lurch at the sound of Thompson's voice. It was the first time the young man had sounded really upset throughout this whole thing. He gulped and sprinted towards where Thompson stood midway down the hallway. The large policeman's face was white and he looked like he had seen a ghost.

Wilson looked at Thompson with dread. "Is he….?" He just couldn't get the word out.

Thompson said nothing, grabbing Wilson by the lapel of his lab coat and dragging him through a doorway. Cameron and the others followed close behind. They blinked as they entered the hospital room, its crisp white walls almost blinding in their contrast to the dim, dusty corridor. Wilson gasped when he saw House lying on an operating table, a respirator hissing in the background as his friend lay, completely immobile. The bruises around the restraints on his wrists made it clear that he had fought hard and another damned breathing tube had been forced down his throat. He was partially covered by a white sheet, but the police officer standing beside held the sheet awkwardly in her hands, as if she was afraid to let it touch him. Thompson nodded as they approached and the policewoman pulled the sheet off, exposing House's legs. "Oh…fuck…oh my fucking God", Wilson cursed when he saw the open wound on House's right thigh. The skin had been peeled back and the muscles were completely visible… a dissection. "That fucking Bastard…" Cuddy, Foreman Chase and Cameron entered the room, stopping in shock at the scene before them. Another officer held a dressing over a wound on House's left leg, Wilson couldn't be sure, but it looked like he'd been shot. Goddamn it!

Thompson looked at Wilson grimly, "I'm really glad you're here, Doc… We didn't know what to do next…We can't move him…I think he's under anesthetic and the right leg is …open." He grimaced, as if he was about to be sick. "…You…you can help him right?"

Wilson forced himself to look away from the legs and check his friend's vitals…the breathing was rapid and shallow and his heart was beating way too fast… He looked at the monitors…oxygen sats were not good and his blood pressure was in the tank. Damn. He looked up quickly. "Need some help here…" Foreman was already there, checking the instruments and looking for some suture material. Cameron searched for a surgical mask and Wilson shook his head. "Don't bother Allison, no time. Keep an eye on his vitals, Foreman and I will have to close this leg with whatever we have on hand. The other wound appears to be superficial, so it can wait. If he starts to wake up, there's no way we can give him any more anesthetic with his BP that low. We've got to do this now."

Cuddy felt a hand on her shoulder as she watched the action before her. She turned to see Constable Ames. "We do have someone else here who needs a doctor", the policewoman said. She steered Chase and Cuddy into another room where they found a handcuffed Vogler on a gurney; he was unconscious, another officer was holding a bandage over a wound on his right leg. It was obvious from the blood on the sheet that the wound had been bleeding badly. "He was shot", Ames said simply. She noticed the look of loathing on both doctor's faces. "I know you would probably rather let him bleed to death" she said quietly. "…but you are doctors…and don't you think it would be fitting for him to spend the rest of his life in a jail cell?" Cuddy and Chase nodded tiredly and Chase began examining Vogler's leg.

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The sounds of a hospital room came slowly into focus as House lurched suddenly awake, an overwhelming sense of fear and panic causing him to cry out as he tried to force himself towards consciousness. He felt hands on his shoulders, pressing him back down onto the bed and he thrashed against them. Somewhere through the haze, he heard a familiar voice trying to calm him, a soothing voice…telling him everything was okay…he was safe… He kept fighting. A second voice, the voice of a friend…saying everything was okay…stop fighting…you moron… Moron?

…Wilson. Feeling a surge of relief, House stopped fighting and allowed himself to slowly wake up and focus his eyes on his surroundings. Yep…the inevitable hospital room…monitors beeping, as always. No respirator, thank God. He turned his head and saw the smiling, exhausted face of James Wilson, beaming down from above. Cameron was there too, not bothering to disguise the fact that there were tears in her eyes.

"I'm glad you're back", Wilson said gently. "How do you feel?"

"Lousy." House grimaced as he stretched. Pain flooded down his right leg and he moaned, reaching down to rub the offending muscles. He was brought up short by a bandage, covering his leg from the hip all the way down to his knee. House winced, his eyes opening suddenly in panic, remembering the terror-filled moments with Vogler and the creepy Dr. Baronov. He forced himself to a sitting position, despite Wilson's attempts to keep him lying still, and threw off the blankets, examining the large pressure bandage now covering his right leg. A terrified look came on his face as he noticed, for the first time, that a bandage that was also wrapped around his left thigh.

"What….what…?" he could barely speak, his voice shook. "What did they do to me?"

Wilson tried to smile, not too successfully. "We stopped them before they got too far…" he started.

House's voice sounded like he was choking…his mind was filled with the voice of Baronov, the utter helplessness he felt as Baronov explained his plans...plans that would destroy his left leg… "James…dammit…tell me. How far did they get?"

"Calm down Greg", Wilson listened to his friend's heartbeat skyrocket audibly as the monitors beeped incessantly beside him. "Baronov opened the leg but didn't do any new damage to the muscles…"

"You've got an infection", Cameron interjected, "But it's under control now with the antibiotics you're receiving."

"But the good one…" House ran a hand over the bandage covering his left leg and cringed when it caused a surge of pain. "Ow…fuck…how bad is my left leg?"

Wilson patted his shoulder. "You got shot in that one Greg…" House looked at him with a confused expression on his face. "Vogler started shooting as the cops came in…he managed to kill that Baronov fellow then hit you in the leg as the police shot him." House glared at Wilson, a pleading look on his face. Wilson continued, "It's okay, it's okay, Greg...honest. Look at me…superficial damage only. Your left leg will be as good as new very soon." Cameron nodded at him reassuringly and House felt his panic begin to subside, just a little bit.

"You're sure…?"

"We'll have you up and gimping around as usual in no time." Wilson grinned.

"You'd better get back on your feet soon Doc." House looked up to see Thompson enter the room carrying a bouquet of flowers. "You've got a witness statement to give, not to mention several appearances as the star witness in the case of the People versus Edward Vogler." He grinned, his relief evident in seeing House awake.

"What happened to him, anyway?" House asked. His voice sounded raspy and weak but it was there.

Thompson smiled. "He got shot in the leg...in the right leg." His head tilted to one side. "Your colleagues Cuddy and Chase stabilized him upstairs but the docs in the trauma bay couldn't re-establish the blood flow to his foot." House's eyes opened wide in disbelief.

Wilson added, "High powered rounds do nasty things to blood vessels."

House looked incredulous as Thompson nodded. "Yup, he lost his leg, they had no choice but to amputate. Weird huh...I know, it sounds spooky, but I guess what goes around really does come around." The large policeman shrugged. "Anyway, Vogler's gonna go to prison for a very long time, so it's not like he'll be running any marathons anytime soon."

House smiled for the first time in spite of the macabre circumstances. Vogler lost his leg...it was...perfect. He looked up at the grinning form of Thompson who still held the flowers under one arm. "Well, Sergeant...I'm grateful for everything...but it does seem a bit odd that you chose to bring me flowers..."

Thompson blushed, his eyes dropping to his feet. "Well, you know, Dr. House...they aren't...um...they aren't for you."

Wilson smiled as House looked confused. Thompson turned to Cameron who had taken off her lab coat to reveal that she was dressed in a stunning black cocktail dress. Thomspon held out the bouquet. "These are for you... Allison." He said her name shyly, like he couldn't quite believe she had said yes when he had finally gotten up the nerve to ask her out.

Cameron smiled coyly and kissed the blushing policeman's cheek. "Thank you so much...they're beautiful." She tilted her head to one side with a mischievious look in her eyes. "So"..she smiled as the word rolled off her tongue. "Where are you taking me for dinner?"

Thompson grinned and offered her his arm. "I know this great place for sushi..."

House looked on wide-eyed as the drama unfolded in front of him and the grinning Wilson. "Hey", he growled, as Cameron and Thompson walked arm in arm out of his room. "Hey, I'm sick here...in need of a little TLC. You can't just go on a date when I need nurturing..."

Wilson's smile widened. "Oh, stop whining...they make a cute couple, don't you thnk?" House grimaced.

"Is that jealousy?" The shocked looked on Wilson's face was almost worthy of an Academy Award. "You, my friend, are jealous."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not. Am not."

"Are too, are too, are too..." Wilson laughed as Cuddy walked into the room; she rolled her eyes.

"Will you guys ever grow up? You sound like a couple of kids talking about a girl after class..." She smiled as she jotted some notes into House's chart and Wilson started singing a song about_ 'Allison and Gregory, up in a tree..' _ House responded with a series of insults and growls. Cuddy sighed and rolled her eyes again, just for show, as she left the room.Thank God, her world was pretty much back to normal...

THE END.


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